


Picture Perfect

by RubyFiamma



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Action/Adventure, Additional Warnings Apply, Alternate Universe - Dark, Alternate Universe - Horror, Blood and Gore, Blood and Injury, Car Accidents, Come as Lube, Cop Aomine Daiki, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub Undertones, F/M, Firefighters, Fires, Graphic Description of Corpses, Gun Kink, Gun Violence, Gun play, Hospitals, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Torture, M/M, Mass Death, Medical Terminology, Model Kise Ryouta, Morning After, Morning Sex, Multiple Orgasms, Murder Mystery, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Original Character Death(s), Prostitution, Romance, Sexual Content, Smut, Strippers & Strip Clubs, Trauma, Verbal Humiliation, Yakuza
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-18
Updated: 2017-07-01
Packaged: 2018-03-31 03:07:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 28
Words: 100,633
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3962113
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RubyFiamma/pseuds/RubyFiamma
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kise Ryota is quite the popular model, blessed with good looks and gracious charm; there isn't a single person that doesn't like him. Except that there is, and they're out to make Kise's life a living hell. When everyone associated with him starts turning up dead, Shinjuku Police Department Sergeant Aomine Daiki heads up the investigation but the evidence reveals that Kise may have more involvement with the murders than he's letting on. With no one left to depend on and being the number one suspect in murders no one believes he's innocent of, it becomes quite clear to Kise that the only way to win back his freedom and save the people he loves is to confront the killer himself, even if that means going down with them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**I**

* * *

 

It's eerily quiet when Kise enters the house, he's assuming that his housemates are all asleep by now judging by the sharp black backdrop against the pale bone hue of the moon high in the sky. It's not unusual for him to be arriving home this late or _early —_ depending on how you look at it — because his career and his nightlife often keep long hours.

The door creaks loudly as Kise moves to shut it, made to seem louder than usual now that he's trying to be quiet. There's an odour lingering in the house that he can't figure out, he's not entirely sure if it's himself he's smelling. He reeks of cheap perfume and cigarette smoke, and he can smell the stench of hours old beer off his breath, so right now he wants nothing more than to take a shower and brush his teeth, wash the routine of every night off his skin and hope to sleep an hour or two before he needs to make it to his next shoot.

He passes two bedrooms on the main floor, the doors shut to drown out any noise Kise could be making, but he's rather proud of himself that he's a little bit tipsy still and hasn't made a sound. He works his way upstairs, passes another two bedrooms and a bathroom and saunters to the end of the hall where he shares a room with another male model. Kise isn't close with these other men, keeps his distance as they're all competing for the same spotlight.

The door is shut to his bedroom too, which he supposes isn't a bad thing, but it is unusual. Hijikata tends to leave the door open so it doesn't disturb him when Kise comes home in the wee hours. It's nothing, Kise thinks, but there's an inexplicable shiver that crawls down his spine and causes the hairs to bristle on the back of his neck. The chill he chalks up to his housemates leaving the windows open to air out whatever that smell is. Kise is pretty sure it isn't him anymore, the scent has only gotten stronger; a sharp, acrid emanation that burns the insides of his nostrils and leaves a putrid taste on the back of his tongue.

Wrinkling his nose, Kise creeps into his bedroom and shoves his hand into his satchel to dig out his cell phone to use as a light source. He doesn't want to turn on the overhead, and Hijikata doesn't have his lamp on either, which is also unusual. But perhaps his roommate isn't home and that explains why it's pitch black in his bedroom and lacks the familiar sound of Hijikata's snoring. Still, he hesitates with his hand hovering over the switch on the wall just in case Hijikata _is_ home.

Kise decides against it, retrieves his phone and uses his screen to illuminate the bedroom. He feels cold air in here too, flicks the light in the direction of the window and sees it open several inches, and the curtains fluttering in the breeze. It's unnatural, Kise thinks, for the house to be this cold with the warmth of the summer air outside, but he doesn't think anything of it. The time on his phone reads 4:36 am so it's too early to shower just yet. Sighing, he removes his satchel and places it along with his phone on the dresser near the foot of his bed, maneuvering expertly around pieces of furniture and discarded clothing. He finally gets to the window and attempts to close it as quietly as he can. It makes a shrill screeching sound and a soft thud as it shuts and Kise whips around to see if he's woken the other man. Now that his eyes have somewhat adjusted to the darkness, without the aid of the screen light, Kise can make out the silhouette of a shape under pale sheets, and when he squints it's the contouring lines of a body he makes out. Satisfied that Hijikata is home, asleep and that he hasn't managed to arouse anyone from their slumber, Kise pulls back the sheets to his bed and crawls into it, not bothering with throwing on pajamas or peeling out of the clothes he has on.

His sheets feel damp at first touch, perhaps the sort of dampness that comes from something being chilled for too long but Kise doesn't put much thought into it. He really just wants to sleep. Except when his head hits the pillow, there's an instant feel of tacky wetness and the intense pungent odour of something sickly sweet and astringent. It makes Kise shoot back up, whatever it is, it's disgusting and on his pillow and suddenly he feels like the butt of a very poor in taste prank.

His hand flies up to his dirtied cheek as he scrambles out of bed, and he's wiping something damp and slippery like the texture of paint, off his face and rubbing it against his thumb and forefinger as if he'd be able to determine the substance without being able to see. "Argh, gross!" he shouts with little regard for his housemates. If this is a prank they've pulled on him, he isn't going to be considerate of them sleeping now. When he backs up, he hits the dresser, and bottles of cologne and aftershave rattle and fall down behind the crack between it and the wall, and that _does_ make a considerable amount of noise, enough to wake Hijikata, maybe even the whole house.

"Hiji-san, what is _that?_ " Kise groans, moving to rip the sheet off of his sleeping roommate. The other doesn't move, and when Kise is angrily balling the sheet up in his hands, he finds the same stickiness is clinging to his palms. Kise throws the sheet on the floor in disgust, pivots to slap his hand against the light switch, infuriated and adrenaline-hot, yet an unsettling knot of anxiety begins to churn his stomach. With the flick of the switch, a jaundiced glow floods the room. Kise blinks in the brightness, allows his eyes to adjust to the change in lighting to scope out the situation and what he sees prompts an unintelligible garble that erupts from Kise's throat.  He stumbles backwards, hitting the corner of the door frame and that knocks him forward far enough to settle in on the mess of the other man's bed. He can instantly feel his blood turn frigid, can feel the ice slice through his veins like a flash-freeze and the cold, heavy chill cripples him, settles at the base of his spine and meanders through the rest of his body until there's no warmth of security left. His pulse is racing, his heart has all but leapt out of his throat, thundering hard against his chest and he can hear the sound of his blood resounding in his ears. His flatmate, Hijikata — if it _is_ Hijikata, is strewn out across the bed in _pieces_. There's tar-dark blood still seeping through the sheets and dripping slow and viscous underneath onto the hardwood floor, collecting into a congealed puddle. Entrails decorate the mattress like party streamers promising a good time, a blemished and bloated leg teeters off the side edge and an arm hangs loose and lax off the foot of the bed like it's in a permanent state of relaxation. It's all too much to take in at once, Kise's eyes darting through the grisly scene despite telling himself to squeeze them shut in hopes of reopening them to discover this has all been a hallucinatory side effect of the party favours he'd taken earlier on in the night. Except he can't tear his eyes away, god how he wants to, because they're trailing up the bed and falling on Hijikata's head, staged in the centre of Hijikata's pillow. His skin is ashen pale and chalky, ribbons cascading down the small stump of slender neck where the flesh is torn, frayed and ragged. His mouth is stretched out wide, gaped open in a soundless scream and the most terrifying vision is Hijikata's eyes, glazed over and milky, the rich brown of them covered in a sheen of placated horror.

Kise can't suppress the bile surging up his throat nor does he stop it from spewing out of his mouth. It doesn't stop for a while, not until Kise is left gagging and heaving, spittle clinging to his lips and a sourly vile taste coating his tongue. His throat is raw and his sharp pains tear through his stomach, but he's pretty certain he's thrown up all there is left to expel. He's shaking by the end of it, he can't shut his eyes — and even if he did, Kise knows this is now seared into his memory and it'll be imprinted on the insides of his eyelids and haunting his nightmares for a very long time. He's not sure what he should do — not sure if he could move even if he made a decision, he can't will his feet to take even the slightest step to flee the house. The sound of his phone pinging cutting through the silence causes him to jump, his heart skips and stays suspended rather than falling back into rhythm. His phone is within reach if Kise can just take a step or two more but he's afraid to turn his back, afraid that whoever did this is still here and is waiting to do him in the same way.

Finally, after a minute that drags on like an eternity, Kise exhales a long and shaky breath before dodging over to the dresser to grab his cell phone. That's when he catches his reflection in the mirror and sees the blood smeared across his cheek, staining the gold of his hair a tarnished orange. He freezes, except to lift a trembling hand to his cheek and with an anguished cry, he starts scrubbing at his skin, desperate and savagely, but it isn't working — it's only spreading the blood thinner and paler and it winds up covering more of his face, until he's got it tainting both eyebrows, across his nose and under his chin, and in sore streaks down the side of his neck. He can feel the lump in his throat, his eyes burning with the threat of frustrated and panicked tears and in his defeat, he takes a step back, only for the edge of his bed to catch the back of his knees and he jumps again, this time whirling around to defend himself against the assailant that isn't actually there.

Kise doesn't remember what happens after that, except the shattering of his cell phone as it hits the floor and the message scrawled on the wall in Hijikata's blood over the head of his bed.


	2. Chapter 2

**II**

* * *

 

Kise is still in shock hours later.

He doesn't remember how he got to the police station, doesn't remember the process of being processed. He doesn't think he's blinked since he turned on the light back at the house, afraid to close his eyes and see what he's seen all over again.

He's closing his trembling hands around a complimentary ceramic mug given to him by the arresting officers in hopes to achieve some semblance of warmth. There are handcuffs around his wrists, the cold metal digging in and chaffing his skin and there's black ink smudged over his fingertips. The cup is cold too, and the liquid inside has reached tepid temperature by now, but Kise can't be sure. He wants to get the taste of death off his tongue but he's convinced that the coffee will somehow hold the flavour of dark, congealing blood and that's enough for him to keep the mug set on the rusted, dent-filled steel table and away from his mouth.

When he looks up, he catches his reflection in the two-way mirror and he's horrified but he's suffering from some sort of major disconnect, it's his face but it's not really him. His complexion lacks any colour with the exception of the smeared skids of blood. It looks strange, almost like dirt now in this lighting, and underneath is skin rubbed raw and angry. He thinks he's been crying, his eyes are red and swollen; skin purpley-pink and puffy, but he can't remember.

The door to the interrogation room opens, and Kise's eyes shift to the intruder. It's a tall man, short black hair that falls over his eyes and pale skin in a cheap, polyester suit. His look is serious and stern, he doesn't look like he'd be offering Kise any kindness anytime soon. He's got a file folder in one hand and his other hand rests on the butt of a gun slotted in a hip holster. He sighs as he pulls up a chair, clears his throat and tosses the folder down on the table before taking a seat.

"I'm Detective Nijimura Shūzō," he begins with a smile, a quick change in expression that makes Kise feel a little uneasy. "Kise..." The detective checks the folder, looks back up at Kise and grins, his icy gray eyes shining with recognition. "Ryōta, is it? Hey, uh — I think I know you — you're that famous underwear model, right?"

Kise nods slowly. He's been staring at the wall in front of him, unmoving, unblinking, for the last two hours. Poor circulation and lack of warmth offered leave his hands feeling like frigid ice. The room itself is cold and uninviting. It's dreary and claustrophobic, like a cold and dank dungeon, with soot coloured chipped and broken brick walls and sickly dim lighting that create more despair than hope. There are no windows, no peek of the new morning's shine, no escape.

"I know this has been a long night, Kise-san, but I need you to go over the events one last time," Nijimura says, folding his hands on the table in front of him.

"I've already told the other officers everything I remember," Kise replies. It comes out in a long and broken exasperated sigh.

"I know," Nijimura answers with another smile. "I know. But it's been a while, you've had time to think about things you may have missed earlier."

"I- I don't remember _anything_ ," Kise reiterates, pushing his hair back and off of his face. He can still feel flecks of dried blood catch at his fingertips. "Except... what I saw."

"Okay, so, let's go over that aga—"

"I don't want to," Kise snaps quick, his hands hitting the table hard. The bang echoes like a gunshot in the small room, the chain on the cuffs hits the metal of the table and catches on the edge. He can feel his entire body rattle with the shake of his head and his stomach tighten painfully with queasy tension. "I don't want to."

"Okay," agrees Nijimura, sitting back in his chair and nodding. "Let's go with where you were before this. Before you arrived home."

Kise reaches to scratch at his exposed collarbone. The chain link on the cuffs jangles, making it difficult to find the right angle for effectiveness. The stiff, dingy beige jumpsuit itches and irritates him to an unbelievable extent. It makes Kise's skin crawl to think that he's in prisoner's clothing, that he's in attire that's for dirty low lives that commit crimes, that this sort of thing isn't _fit_ for someone like him.

He sighs resignation before opening his mouth. "I had a photo shoot scheduled for nine am. I was there for most of the day. My agent and about a hundred other people can vouch for my whereabouts, including my stylist, my make-up artist, the photographer and even the kid that gets me my coffee. After that, I went to a premiere and then the after party hosted at the club, Yellow Jasmine in Kabukichō where about two thousand other people saw me. I left the club at two-thirty, went back to a hotel with some girl I don't remember the name of and left after an hour. I took a cab back home, you can check my phone records and the taxi company."

"I'm aware of how to do my job, Kise-san," interjects Nijimura. "That's a pretty risky place for a high-end premiere, don't you think so?"

"The premiere wasn't held there, naturally," scoffs Kise. "That was at the Lotus Theatre."

"Mhm. And what time was your premiere finished?" Nijimura asks, quickly scribbling down notes in a pale yellow legal pad.

"I don't know, nine or ten? Closer to ten, I remember asking the limo driver the time when I got into his car."

"Did you travel alone?"

"No, I left the premiere with my agent and a few other friends. I gave all the names to the officers out front."

"Right. So you ride in the limo for about half an hour before you arrive in Kabukichō. Were you drinking in the vehicle?"

"Yes," answers Kise. "I had a few glasses of champagne."

"And then you get to the Yellow Jasmine. Was this a private after party?"

"Yes. You needed to be on a list to attend the main floor, VIP list to enter the balcony lounge."

"You were on this VIP list?"

Kise sighs, scrubs tiredly at his face with his hands, no doubt smudging black ink across his already filthy skin. "Yes. The VIP lounge also included private dancers, one I took to the Mahjong Hotel with me. I don't remember her name but she had brown hair and brown eyes."

"That's ninety-nine percent of the population, Kise-san. Thank you for your description, I'm sure it'll be helpful. We'll come back to her later. So now, at this function, had you been drinking?"

"Of course," Kise answers with a shrug. "Who _doesn't_ drink at an after party?"

Nijimura doesn't respond to his petulance. It isn't that he means to be rude, but Kise is tired and stressed and mentally traumatised — he's just had enough and all he wants now is to shower off the grime of the night before and his flatmate's blood. Maybe sleep, but Kise has a sinking feeling it'll be a long time before he's able to sleep like a normal person again.

"Did you do any drugs at this after party?"

Kise purses his lips in forethought and takes a minute to work over the consequences, bad press and potentially ruined career if he answers truthfully. But, "Yes," is what he says, slow and carefully. "I did."

"Mm," Nijimura nods, flipping through papers. He settles on one, drags his index finger down the length of the page and stops. "The lab results show high levels of cocaine and your BAC was point twenty-two percent —"

Kise's brows draw tight in confusion. "BAC?"

"Your blood alcohol concentration. You were still drunk when we picked you up. Over double the legal limit when we processed you. The only reason you managed to make it home without falling on your face a few times was probably due to the cocaine in your system. You do drugs often, Kise-san?"

"It comes along with the lifestyle," Kise snorts, settling his cuffed hands in his lap. His wrists burn sore like salt added to an open wound every time the metal scrapes the skin. "Early mornings, long days and hard nights. I'm lucky if I get an hour or two of sleep half the time. I have a reputation to uphold, you know."

"And just what is that reputation? Japan's next top model?" Nijimura says this with a smirk on his face but the joke is snarky and cold rather than humorous. Kise opens his mouth to offer a retort when Nijimura holds up a hand to silence him. "Come on and level with me here, Kise-san. Were the other men in your household too much competition for you? Is that why you killed them?"

Kise's head snaps up so quick that he gives himself whiplash. " _What?_ " His pulse begins to race, heat burns underneath his cheeks. He can feel his chest tighten and his breath catches in his throat. "What," he repeats, disconnected and broken. "Others...? Wait —  _what?_ What are you — You think _I_ killed Hijikata? And... And the rest of them are... Is everyone  _dead_?"

Nijimura catches Kise's eyes for a minute, narrows them and they look ridiculously dark under the shadows cast when he leans in across the table and the sour glow of the overhead lamp cascading over his face. His lips are tight, going pale under the pressure as he presses them together. "Look, Kise-san. It's not looking very well for you. You have the victim's blood all over your clothes and face. No forced entry, your fingerprints on the window in your bedroom —"

"What — I _live_ there," Kise protests. "Of course my fingerprints would be all over the house!"

"You also have motive," Nijimura says, ignoring Kise's refutes. "You've been a model for a few years now, some of these men are younger, maybe more attractive... Maybe they're getting the better gigs, maybe —"

"This is ridiculous," Kise groans, sinking in the steel chair that's bolted into the floor. He can understand why that is now, the detective's theories are so outlandish it'd make even the most passive people want to throw a chair at him. "I didn't do this, I didn't kill anyone. I _couldn't_."

For a minute, Kise forgets why he isn't supposed to be closing his eyes — why he _shouldn't —_ and he does, just for a split second before having the image of the message left for him in his roommate's blood flash across his vision. The wall, painted pale yellow, is tainted maroon for a better portion of its surface. Kise is no blood expert but it looks like it had been written while the blood was still fresh, the words drawn out perfectly clear and dripping in crimson rivulets, running into larger channels but it doesn't make it any less difficult to make out. No. The statement is loud and to the point, two simple words that hold such a chilling impact.

He doubles over quick and heaves dryly for a minute or two, gagging on the cotton-thickness coating his mouth. His entire body shudders violently after the motion while his eyes burn with the brimming of fresh tears. He knows now not to close his eyes again but is somewhat thankful for the horrendous reminder. "The message," Kise chokes, barely above a whisper. "What about... the message?"

A sharp knock on the mirror sounds before Nijimura can reply. He doesn't respond, just holds Kise's watery gaze until another knock comes, harder and louder this time, and Nijimura slides out of his chair. "We aren't done here, Kise Ryōta." The detective leaves the room without giving Kise much time to say anything, though he doesn't think he would have had anything useful to say at this point. Nijimura already thinks he's guilty and Kise is still reeling from hearing that not one, but all of his housemates had been murdered last night. He tries real hard to push the images that come flipping through in assumption each scene would look like.

Kise doesn't get much time to think before the for to the room is being opened again and this time, Kise opens his mouth to say the magic words his agent told him to use if anything bad ever happened before Nijimura can use anything else Kise says against himself. "I want a la—"

He's cut off in short when he tips his head up to face Nijimura but instead catches dark skin and broad shoulders, striking blue eyes and cobalt hair to match. His breath catches hot in his lungs, scorches like wildfire as it burns its way out of his mouth in a shell-shocked and broken gasp.

"Kise... It's been a while." 


	3. Chapter 3

**III**

* * *

 

" _Aomine_... _cchi_?"

 Kise's sudden shock and confusion is natural, he hasn't seen the man that stands in front of him, tall and confident, since middle school and back then he was just a boy. They had been good friends once upon a time, but the life Kise had viewed as a fairy tale has long since ended. Now enemies come disguised as friends, love and good company are bought and not earned; in this life, everyone is beautiful but equally ugly.

 "Aominecchi... what are you doing here? How'd they think to call you — of all people?"

"Still with that stupid nickname, huh." Aomine stalks further into the room and finally steps under the flood of light given off by the single overhead lamp. He's dressed in a suit too — pale grey; less formal than Nijimura's and also not as cheap. "It's just Aomine Daiki now," he says as he puffs out his chest. "Sergeant of the 6-1-1 Shinjuku Police Department."

With this said, Aomine puts his hands on his hips, and his suit jacket slides across them with the motion, revealing his holstered gun and the glint of his golden badge. Kise can't explain the flutter he gets in his chest as if his heart and lungs have stalled like an engine and his brain is trying to give them a jump-start.

"Wow," Kise exhales, pushing the hair out of his face. "You're all grown up... Sergeant Aominecchi." He flashes a smile, one resigned for nostalgia, but it doesn't last long because if Aomine is here as an officer, then, "I guess you're not here as a friend."

Aomine stares at him for a minute. He doesn't offer any fond words or warm smiles before shoving his hands in his pockets and lets out a long whistle. He turns around and nods at the mirror and whoever stands behind it. "No," he says, turning back, with the same aloof expression as before. "This is quite the predicament you're in here."

"Aominecchi — you can't think I did this," Kise protests. He _knows_ this man — maybe not since they were boys but Aomine knows Kise isn't capable of something like this. He _has_ to.

"It's not what _I_ think, Kise. It's what the evidence _says_." Aomine reaches across the table and retrieves the folder, pulling out what appear to be photographs. He begins laying them out on the table in front of Kise, but Kise doesn't dare take his eyes off Aomine. He _knows_ what the pictures are of, and there's not a chance of regaining some semblance of sanity if he gives in and glances down.

"Each one of your housemates, brutally murdered. That makes nine men in total, Kise. _Nine._ You're the only one that survived. How do you explain that?"

Kise gapes at Aomine incredulously. His skin is prickling hot with the itch of adrenaline, the familiar edge of losing his patience. He narrows his eyes and returns the cold glare Aomine has been providing for the better half of their exchange. "I know you weren't always that smart, Aominecchi, but are you really _that_ stupid? I have an alibi for the _entire_ night. I also have no reason to want to kill _anyone._ I'm a model, not a serial killer!" He chokes on the dry laugh that erupts from his throat, tries hard not to think about the coffee-tinted sludge in the department mug being the only thing he can use to wet his mouth.

"Mass murderer."

"What?"

"You're a mass murderer," Aomine corrects. "Not a serial killer." He takes a seat on the chair across from Kise, leans over the table so he can point to each photo individually. "Sakamoto Yusei and Matsuda Takumi in the first bedroom on the left, located on the first floor. Do you remember how you killed them, Kise?"

"I didn't kill them," Kise insists, scratching at the skin underneath his jumpsuit, looking past Aomine's shoulder.

"They were smothered in their sleep, like Yamato Ken and Maruyama Ryōhei. Figured you'd have to kill them silently, huh? As to not alert the others that you were getting rid of your competition of course," Aomine supplies, tapping on the table with his index finger.

Kise relents, lets out a long and exasperated groan. He's coming down from his high, he's been scared sober since the incident but too wired and frazzled to focus and now he's exhausted, mentally and physically. He isn't sure how much more of this torture he can take, how much patience he has left for defending his innocence. "Aominecchi, you sound ridiculous."

Aomine doesn't laugh, doesn't even budge. Only his eyes move, flicker from holding Kise's gaze back down to the crime scene photos, perhaps the quick quirk of a smirk before he opens his mouth to speak.

"Movin' on," he continues, sliding another photo closer toward Kise, "to the two bedrooms upstairs. The first bedroom, you slit both Takuma Isao and Míng-Tāo Liù's throats. Guess now that you had the adrenaline of the other kills in your blood pumping you up, it was time to step it up a notch, get a little more gruesome. Usin' a knife to fillet them open from ear to ear was fun, I bet — still silent enough that you wouldn't wake anyone else in the house, right?"

"Please stop, Aominecchi," Kise pleads, catching the gleam of electric blue in Aomine's eyes. He looks like this interrogation has him fired up, and Kise hasn't seen Aomine this excited in a very long time. It makes Kise want to be happy for Aomine, glad that he was able to overcome what had happened in the past, but all this is coming at his own expense and Kise isn't sure how to feel about that.

"Look at the pictures, Kise," Aomine coaxes smoothly. "Look at your handiwork."

Tears well in his eyes, burning to be set free to spill down Kise's cheeks, leave streaks of stark pale in the filth on his face. It's enough, he's finally had enough. He jerks his head, focuses on the only exit in the room. "No... No, I don't want to look. I don't want to look, Aominecchi."

"You bludgeoned both men to death with what the medical examiner says is possibly a hammer," Aomine grates, the naturally smooth of his voice turning to rough grit, like sandpaper. "It only took a few blows to each of their heads to kill them —"

"Stop this." 

"Was that more exciting than the knife? Probably relieved a lot of stress with those kills, musta felt good. Tell me Kise, which method did you like best?" He's taunting now, there's nothing but poison bait laced in Aomine's tone. It's raucous and imperious and it makes Kise recoil in his chair.

Kise doesn't say anything at first, there's no point. It isn't like Aomine will believe him, both officers seem to have made up their minds about Kise's innocence despite the lack of evidence. He finally allows for more tears to fall, stuck between wanting to play catch up with his longtime friend and proving his innocence in this crime. He knows once he leaves this room — _if_ he leaves this room — it's unlikely that he'll ever be friends with Aomine Daiki again.

"How did it feel to take the lives of so many men? To watch the life fade out of their eyes, hear their last breath spill off of their lips —"

"Aominecchi, _please_."

"Ah," Aomine continues, grabbing one of the pictures off the table — Kise can hear the sheathing sound it makes as he drags it across the surface. "I bet this was your favourite kill though. It was the most violent, but yet... it's the most beautiful. I mean, _look_ at all that spatter on the walls. The way the arterial spray just fans out, and oh — the castoff is like some modern freestyle. It's almost like a masterpiece — isn't that right, Kise? Blood's always kinda spectacular that way, you know? It has its own art form, the body's way of telling us the story of what happened to them. That was what you were trying to pull off with Hijikata Naoji, wasn't it? Some kind of expressive art, hm? The way you staged the body — I gotta say, it's pretty impressive... It was like a  _showcase._.. Hey, how long did it take you to dismember your roommate?"

"You're sick," Kise murmurs in sorrowful disgust. He can see the gruesome scene in front of him as Aomine talks through it; he can smell the thick, rotting stench of blood and taste it on his tongue. His stomach is lurching again, flopping and flipping every which way each time his memory flags another image of the carnage left behind in his bedroom.

"But the message though... That's a nice touch. You even had enough time to change out of your bloody clothes — the only problem is we can't find any of the murder weapons. Where are the weapons, Kise?" Aomine asks, leaning back in the chair. He casually folds his thick arms across his broad chest. Kise can't help but take notice how much Aomine's filled out since the last time they've seen each other.

But then Kise's mind skidders, he has to rewind the last thing Aomine had said and process it one more time, forget the distraction of big muscles, dark gold skin, and eyes as sharp as jagged sapphire. There's an icy chill lancing it's way up his spine and bristling the hairs on the back of his neck. The anxiety is back, winding tight in his gut and shoulders.

"Wait a minute — _changed clothes?"_

"Ah c'mon, don't act like you don't know what I'm talking about. You left the blood-soaked clothing lying on your bedroom floor. And the blood on the clothing has come back a match to all five victims. Pretty dumb move there, Kise — unless. Unless that was part of your plan all along?"

"Plan? You think I _planned_ to kill all these people?" Kise rocks back in his chair but doesn't go anywhere thanks to the stability provided by the sturdy chair bolted to the filthy cement floor. He wants to reach out and shake Aomine, this is the most ridiculous theory he's ever heard. Instead, he's shooting up from his seat with sharp tingling pain jolting up each calf and his thighs are jelly-numb, and he's reaching to shove the photographs, the folder _and_ its contents off the table and onto the floor. It's hard for him to remain upright, but his rage-fueled strength is enough to sustain him for now. "Aominecchi, you _know_ me! I would _never_ do something like this!"

Everything flies to the floor with little noise. Aomine has risen out of his seat, his demeanour still calm and reserved, though he's smirking amusement. "Is this the side we need to see now, Kise? Is this the side you showed when you killed your friends?"

"Can't you see someone's framing me?!" screeches Kise. The tendons in his neck bulge, he can feel them stretch out through his skin, and his throat now feels raw and ragged.

Aomine does laugh, then. It sounds like a cackle, bone-brittle and disdainful. "Framing you? Now who sounds ridiculous?"

Kise can feel his blood boil under his skin, he feels like he's on fire and about to combust, his heart is racing a mile a minute but his mind is whirling around like a turbine, he's so dizzy that he succumbs to vertigo and the floor gives way underneath his feet. He hits the cement hard, the bonds on his wrists making it impossible to throw his arms out in front of him to break his fall. The right side of his face hits the floor with enough force to cast vivid stars across his vision and the air leaves his lungs in an explosive gust. He's choking, coughing maybe, he's not really sure which, either way, he can't catch a breath. Aomine watches him, Kise can feel the heat of his glare while he writhes around on the floor and tries to pick himself up. He feels drained, every ounce of him is used up and expired and all the fight he had left within him has evaporated as quickly as a droplet of water fizzes out when it meets a hot surface. He manages to get into a sitting position, pushes himself against the wall of the interrogation room. He tips his head up, finally able to inhale, even if they're short breaths in succession. Kise catches Aomine's gaze, and he hasn't moved from the spot he stands in. He still looks supercilious and indifferent with his arms folded loosely across his chest. This isn't the bright and enthusiastic boy Kise remembers from long ago. This is a different man, a complete stranger and there is no kindness here.

"Lawyer," Kise finally chokes. "I want a lawyer."

Aomine frowns as he nods curtly, glancing back at the mirror and whirling his index finger in an indication that the interrogation is over. "I'm surprised you lasted as long as you did, Kise. Where are the murder weapons?"

"Screw you," responds Kise. He lashes out his tongue and sweeps the metallic tang of blood off his broken lip. Funny how all he can taste is sour and salt.

"Well... It was nice seeing you again, Kise," Aomine says casually as he reaches for the doorknob. "But be careful out there. If that message is anything to go by, you're next... _Pretty boy_."


	4. Chapter 4

**IV**

* * *

 

"He didn't do it," Aomine says, tucking his hands into his pants pockets. He's watching Kise through the mirror, the defeat shadowing the gold of the other's eyes continues tugging incessantly at his heart. He looks so fragile, even though Kise stands at over six feet and isn't frail by any means.

"You seemed pretty convinced in there that he did," Nijimura replies. "Are you sure it's not prejudiced because you know the guy?"

 

Aomine snorts. "Of course I'm sure. If he was guilty, I'd be the first one to slap the cuffs on and drag him to holdin'. But, I've known this guy since I was a kid. He really isn't capable of this sort of thing. I mean, he looks pretty toned, yeah, but there's no way he's got the physical strength to bludgeon those two men and dismember another."

Nijimura shakes his head. "He was on drugs. The adrenaline rush he'd get from the cocaine could be enough to give him the extra strength he needed. Besides, we have his clothes covered in all nine of the victims' blood. The lab's already gathered blond hairs that match Kise's DNA."

"Nah, that doesn't mean anythin'. He lives in the house with the victims. His hair and fingerprints are bound to be all over that place." He watches as Kise takes the plastic cup of water offered to him by his lawyer, catches the tremble in his uncuffed hand as he moves to bring the cup to his lips. "I'm tellin' you he ain't our guy."

"The DA is going to indict, he's got enough evidence to charge Kise-san with nine counts of murder in the first degree. He isn't going to leave here, you know." Nijimura sighs and steps away from the window. "Akashi-san isn't going to go easy on him, especially because Kise-san is a celebrity. He's going to want to set an example out of this case, prove that money can't buy off a murder charge."

"Well, Akashi can go ahead and kiss my ass," Aomine retorts. "If there's evidence to prove Kise's innocence, there isn't anything he can do about it."

Nijimura picks up the receiver on the desk phone. "I guess we better get CSU to go back over the crime scene, see if they can find the murder weapons."

Kise is sobbing in the interrogation room, Aomine can see the hiccup in each breath when his shoulders hitch. His lawyer, Junko Kaori, is rubbing Kise's back in comforting circles like a mother would soothe an ill child. Aomine recognises her, she's a _great_ lawyer and he's glad Kise's agent was able to get her to defend him, but she has her work cut out for her on this case if Aomine can't clear Kise's name before Akashi moves forward with the indictment.

"Where are we on Kise's alibis? Has anyone talked to the staff at the Yellow Jasmine? Or the Mahjong Hotel?"

"Nakamura's on his way to the Lotus Theatre with Sato now. But you know we're not going to get anything from that club," Nijimura says, receiver to his ear. "Ah yes, hello —"

Aomine drowns him and the rest of the droning buzz of the squad room out as he racks his brain for a way to get Kise out of the precinct. He'll do this as a courtesy for the man he once knew, though he shouldn't _want_ to help the other man — but he will, even if Aomine doesn't owe Kise anything.

No one uses their gut anymore, that's not the way police work now, but Aomine can say he feels Kise is innocent deep in his gut. Which can only mean that Kise was right, and someone _is_ framing him. The question is why, it's possible that he has a scorned lover, a jealous competitor, maybe just a psycho. The rage escalating in each kill tells Aomine it's personal, not to mention the message the killer left behind.

Aomine steps away from the window too and tears his gaze away from the broken shell of an exuberant boy he once knew. He walks back to his desk where he retrieves the file folder containing the information about Kise's case. He rifles through the crime scene photos again, finally plucking the one photograph taken of the words painted in blood above Kise's bed. ' _You're next pretty boy'',_ it reads, the violent threat promising an end to Kise's life sends an icy chill down Aomine's spine.

"There's a team going back out to comb through the surrounding area of the house," Nijimura says.

"Hey — did CSU find any fingerprints in the blood on the wall?" he asks without looking up.

"No, the killer must have used gloves when writing that message."

"Why would he leave prints in the other rooms and then wear gloves after?" asks Aomine. It's meant to be rhetorical because he comes to a conclusion all on his own himself right after, but Nijimura answers anyway.

"Because then it'd be obvious. We couldn't peg him for the murder as long as there's reasonable doubt, but fingerprints in a bloody message is a pretty good evidence to prove the killer's guilt."

"There's a whole lot of shit that isn't sittin' right with me about this case, Nijimura. I'm tellin' you that guy in there didn't do this. And if he did, he's one hell of an actor." Aomine glances over at the window again and now Kise is hunched over the table, has his arms folded across the surface and his head resting on his forearms. He looks so tired but he hasn't closed his eyes even once since the interview began, and whatever his lawyer is saying to him, he appears to be listening intently.

"I'll give the DA's office a call, see where Akashi-san is, try to speed this along."

"Yeah, okay," Aomine answers. He's not really paying attention to Nijimura, he's reading through the arresting officer's report. It states that Kise made the 119 call, and the emergency responder report claims that no sound was heard on the other line when the call had been received and that dispatcher sent out medical and police services within a minute of the call. The report also says that Kise had been unconscious when the paramedics had arrived. It corroborates with Kise's statement that he had fainted after turning on the light and seeing the crime scene. There was also only blood on one side of Kise's face and current clothing, corresponding with his story of falling into bed and getting out of it upon the realisation that it was wet, and at the time not knowing the substance on the sheets had been blood. If Kise's alibis check out, he would not have had enough time to commit all nine murders after arriving home shortly after four am and before making the 119 call. Since paramedics were able to confirm Kise's unconsciousness, it's unlikely that he was faking for the sake of feigning innocence. All in all, Aomine feels that this is too elaborate of a scheme for Kise to construct _and_ pull off successfully. It just doesn't seem likely. Not of the dorky Kise he remembers.

But all the evidence they've gathered is just as damaging. Hair and fingerprints in each of the men's rooms, blood on his person and both sets of clothing and a motive that can be used efficiently in court to dissuade jurors of his innocence. And Aomine would be lying if he said Kise couldn't be selfish and competitive at times, but he'd never think Kise was capable of murder.

"My client has been cooped up in that room for hours with no food and no water. He's dehydrated and sleep deprived and any confession you would have gotten from him I'd have thrown out. He _fainted_ because he was dizzy, resulting in that bruised cheek and split lip. This is police brutality, sergeant Aomine-san."

"Your client is coming down from a coke binge and was given the choice between coffee or water. He chose coffee," Aomine snaps, turning to face Kaori, one of Tokyo's high-end defence attorneys and a force to be reckoned with in the courtroom. "And thrown out? On what grounds?"

Kaori flips her black hair over her shoulder and haughtily crosses her arms over her chest. "On the grounds that it would have been a confession made under severe duress. Where's the DA? Are you charging my client?"

"Of course we are, counsellor," Aomine smirks. "Nine counts of homicide, your client's lookin' at spending the rest of his wasted life in prison."

"Is your captain aware of your relationship with Kise Ryōta? I want you removed from this case immediately, I'm calling prejudice."

"Relationship? There's no —" Aomine begins only to be cut off.

"You would," Nijimura chimes in. "Sergeant Aomine has no current relationship with the suspect." He's off the phone now and coming to Aomine's defence. He doesn't need it, Aomine doesn't think Kise is guilty anyway and there's not any current relationship between him and Kise, but he won't allow Kaori to use that against him. He _wants_ to work this case, even if he has to prove Kise's innocence behind the scenes.

"Give me a break, detective Nijimura-san. You know as well as I do that this isn't appropriate. For all I know, Aomine-san here is gunning for my client's prosecution because of some bad blood. I'll rip you apart on the stand if you continue to work on this case, and I'll have the judge grant a mistrial. _If_ you get that far. I'll motion to have you kicked off before you even get the chance if you don't recuse yourself, and all evidence collected to be looked over by the defence —"

"What are you saying," Aomine scoffs. "That I planted evidence to implicate Kise Ryōta in a nonuple murder because we had a little playground tiff back in middle school? You sound ridiculous, counsellor."

"Look," Kaori argues, points to the interrogation room where Kise sitting slumped in his chair and staring off into the distance as if he's suddenly become catatonic. It's plausible, Aomine thinks. He's had a traumatic night, and he's not convinced that Kise is an expert actor who's faking all this just to look not guilty. "What you have in there is a terrified young man who's just undergone a _horrendous_ experience, and all you two can think to do is forcefully badger him into a confession for a crime he didn't commit. _That_ is —"

"Akashi-san is on his way," Nijimura interjects. "We don't have to listen to all your preaching, Junko-san. We're just trying to do our jobs."

Kaori flips her hair over her shoulder again and narrows her eyes. "He needs some food and some sleep. I've advised him not to say another word to you guys until I've spoken with Akashi-san. And Aomine-san? Recuse yourself, or it'll get real messy for you."

"Just out of curiosity, how much is he paying you?" taunts Aomine, leaning back against his desk. At this angle, he's got a better view of Kaori's cleavage, made prominent by her large breasts being propped up against her arms. She's not bad to look at, Aomine thinks, with her small frame and silky hair, creamy ivory skin, and flecks of fire-gold in her round, amber eyes. She's a woman who knows how to use what she has to get what she wants, independent and just a little arrogant. Some might call it confidence, being a woman lawyer in Tokyo might be hard, but she's managed to become one of the best in the city. She must be doing something right.

"That's none of your damn business," Kaori retorts. "Speak to me like that again and I'll have your captain bench you for unprofessionalism and you'll be working desk duty for the rest of your career, _sergeant._ "

Aomine lets out a sardonic laugh. "I don't have to listen to all your empty threats. Yer the bottom of the barrel, _scum._ Defense attorneys like you get the worst of criminals off if the price is right. Tell me, you gonna sleep well at night if this guy goes free after killing nine innocent men? Where's the justice for them?"

It's Kaori who scoffs next, she's bending down to pick up the briefcase at her feet. She smirks at Aomine when she gets upright before taking a few steps toward the elevator of the precinct. She presses the button, the indicator light glows green and the doors open. Before getting in, Kaori turns to Aomine and smiles. "I sleep just fine, detective. How about you?"


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uh, please forgive the lack of authenticity in this chapter as I am trash and watch too many (westernized) crime dramas and it has influenced this chapter immensely.

**V**

 

* * *

  

"The people request remand, your honour."

Kise snaps his head in the direction of the prosecution, and he's not familiar with legal terms but his lawyer told him that the District Attorney's office would be coming down hard on him, and instead of sending in the assistant DA, they'd send in the top brass to prosecute the case and the first thing would be to ask the judge he be remanded into custody, which meant he'd have to go back to prison and wait out his time to the next trial date in a jail cell.

Kaori nudges his shoulder in confidence. Kise has come to know Kaori's reputation through his agent, who had sent her to the police station the second Kise was allowed to make a phone call to request legal aid. He feels safe and reassured to have a great attorney like her in his corner. It gives him some semblance of hope, that there may just be a sliver of light at the end of this long tunnel.

"Your honour, my client hasn't committed any crime. He is a _victim,_ and would benefit from being around friends and family to help him through the —"

"The defendant is a celebrity in the entertainment and fashion industry. He has the means and the motive to flee," District Attorney Akashi Seijūrō rebuts.

Kise takes a sidelong glance at the lawyer, he doesn't look like he'd be much of anything out of the ordinary; his hair is strikingly red, he's short with a slim build, soft-spoken and seemingly well-mannered. His eyes though are bone-chilling, heterochromatic red and orange, Kise has never seen anything like them before and it isn't the difference in eye colour that makes Kise shift uncomfortably in his seat whenever he catches the smaller man's gaze. There's something maniacal in the gleam of Akashi Seijūrō's eyes, slicing sharp through Kise's conscience like a pair of razor-edged scissors. Something about him makes Kise _want_ to admit guilt, makes him feel all the pressure compressing tight in his chest is like he's the size of an ant and is about to be crushed underneath Akashi's heel. Like Akashi Seijūrō is small in stature but larger than life.

"Kise Ryōta is a model citizen, popular and well liked by his community," Kaori argues. "He has no intention to flee so much as the district, let alone the country, as he's not guilty of the charges laid against him and running would only serve to prove guilt."

"Your honour," Akashi says and his voice is so soft, it should come wrapped in warmth and affection but instead Kise's hair is bristling on the back of his neck and cold tremors are waving down his spine. "Kise Ryōta is being indicted on nine counts of murder in the first degree, he is deemed a dangerous and sadistic psychopath and a danger to society —"

"Please," Kaori interrupts with a scoff. "The police are behind in their investigation, they have yet to produce the statements from the staff and witnesses that will attest to my client's whereabouts on the night in question. The DA's office has some political —"

"That's enough, counsellors," the judge interjects. He looks miserable, and Kise isn't sure at who or at what, or if that's just his usual face. Either way, he can feel the dread lacing through his blood like a poison and the floor is suddenly beginning to sway underneath his feet. "Save your preaching for the trial. The defendant, Kise Ryōta is to be remanded into custody pending further investigation, until all evidence is thoroughly processed and revealed, at which time counsellors you may move forward with the proper motions. However, I'll allow a conditional bail set at sixty-million yen. That is all."

With the booming echo of the judge's gavel resonating in Kise's ears, he feels a little disoriented and isn't really sure what just happened. He didn't hear the words ' _you're free to go'_   so he can't imagine it was anything he was expecting and he's too tired to try and fit the pieces of coherency together.

"This is good news," Kaori says with a squeeze to his arm. "If you can find someone to post that bail, you'll be able to be released from custody."

"The... the money isn't a problem," Kise murmurs as he watches Akashi glare at him from the other side of the space. The courtroom has started to clear out now, there are only a few reporters probably waiting to take a statement from him, a few guards and a bailiff waiting to take him back to prison. Akashi is still here too. He feels uneasy being left here alone with Akashi as if all other personnel were nonexistent.

"That's perfect, Kise-san. I'll give Kasamatsu-san a call and have him arrange the bail money? We'll have to discuss the conditions the court will allow you to be released under, but don't worry, their terms are usually quite simple. "

Kise is barely hearing a word Kaori says, he's too stunned like a deer trapped in headlights by the slow, sociopathic grin that spreads across Akashi's face as he makes his way over to the defence's table.

"My move next," Akashi says when he gets closer, sliding his gaze from Kise to Kaori. "You will fail if this goes to trial, and all deals you thought you could have made are no longer on the table."

Kaori straightens out, tips her shoulders back and peers down at Akashi, standing almost a whole head taller than him in her conservative black heels. Akashi doesn't look intimidated, but Kise would never have imagined that he would be. There was just something about him that said Akashi wouldn't be one to have failure and intimidation deter him.

"We're not interested in making deals, Akashi-san," she says, with all the confidence in the world, that even Kise is slightly put back. "When — _if_ this case goes to trial, the jury will see my client in such an angelic light the men will want him to marry their daughters and the women will all want him as their surrogate son. Then I will tear apart your entire shotty police department, all your _biased_ and circumstantial evidence, the district attorney's office, hell — even _you —_ for trying to set an example for all celebrity socialites gone bad with Kise Ryōta's face on the movement _._ Don't play with fire, Akashi-san, this isn't a game you are going to win this time."

Kise recoils behind Kaori as the lack of emotion on Akashi's face flash-freezes his entire body as if he were bathed in ice water. The attorney looks like he holds all of life's secrets and all of the answers to the world's questions and Kise suddenly feels really, really ill.

Akashi smiles at Kaori, cocks his head to the side like he were some kind of bird discovering or taking an interest in something significant. "My judgment is absolute," Akashi caveats with soft simplicity, the corners of his mouth curling impossibly higher up his cheeks.

"This isn't justice, Akashi-san," Kaori snorts, grabbing Kise's wrist so suddenly that he jumps. "This is a political smear campaign and you know it." She's pulling him aside, away from Akashi and Kise can't tear his eyes away from the deadlock stare of the other man he's caught in. Kaori is shaking him, calling his name but she sounds very far away like Kise is deep underwater and she's shouting at him from the surface. And then Akashi blinks and it's all over, everything is rapidly rushing back in, flooding his ears with sound and short-circuiting his brain with an overload of two days worth of data he's just had to process in the span of thirty seconds.

Kise is blinking back to this reality just as Kaori is asking the bailiff for a medic. Her rich eyes dart over Kise's features when he tugs on the sleeve of her grey suit jacket, and Kise can't bear to look her in the eyes, he's so embarrassed with this entire ordeal, crying and flaking out in front of a woman that he barely knows, so he zeroes in on the curve of her neck, the sharp clean line of her black hair cut just above her shoulders, the smooth edge of her jaw when she speaks.

"Kise-san, are you alright? Do you need a doctor?" Her voice quivers just below her usual octave, Kise would have never of noticed it if he weren't trying to avoid looking at her.

"I'm fine, thanks," Kise replies, short and disconnected. He's already dreading going back to the prison, where he hasn't been able to sleep or eat or use the bathroom in peace. Where he's been tormented and slapped around, having to look over his shoulder and jumping at every shadow that passes, and it's only been two days. He can't imagine spending the rest of his life in a place like that. To put it frankly, he _wouldn't_ spend another day alive there after his sentencing, let alone a lifetime, whether he or someone else was responsible for taking his life.

"Now look, you have to go back — just until I get the papers signed and everything straightened out on my end. A few hours at most, okay? I'll pull some strings and see if I can get you to a holding cell at 6-1-1 instead of the prison. Just give me a little time."

"That's fine," Kise says as the bailiff pulls his arms behind his back and slap cold cuffs around his wrists. "I don't want to talk to any press."

"No, no. You don't have to. The bailiff with take you out back and you'll get into a squad car or some other form of transportation but you will be _fine,_ right? I'll work everything out, I promise. Kise-san — Kise? Are you listening to me?"

"Uh, yeah, sorry," Kise mutters, shaking his head. He hadn't realised at the time but he just had a complete blank out of all thought, like his brain just totally shut everything down and attempted a reboot. "What were you saying?"

"I was going to ask you if you want anything," Kaori says with a smile, the first genuine one he's seen her make since she entered precinct yesterday. She's even prettier when she smiles.

"To go home," Kise says as the bailiff escorts him out of the courtroom. "I just want to go home."


	6. Chapter 6

**VI**

 

* * *

 

Aomine spills his coffee on his shirt when he jolts after being startled because Satsuki is physically incapable of entering a room calmly and quietly.

"Dai-chan!" she calls again, and this time there are other heads tipping up, turning at the sound of her saccharine tone and waiting for her to skip into the squad room like she usually does. It disgusts him to have all these eyes on Satsuki, knowing precisely what each one of the other officers is thinking when she bounces exuberantly and playfully into the space.

She's there when Aomine turns around. He's using the rough paper napkins to wipe at the mess on his shirt, though the napkins are doing little to absorb the coffee and he gives it up after a while, thankful that today of all days he decided to wear black.

Satsuki hasn't changed much over the years, except she's gotten far prettier as if it were even possible. Her life with Tetsu is a comfortable and calm one, though she makes it clear to Aomine on a regular that he is still ninety-nine percent of her stress. It's odd to see her at this time of day, she should be working at the school, but given this morning's headlines, Aomine's surprised he hasn't heard from her sooner.

"Dai-chan! Where is he? Is he here, can I see him?" Satsuki has brought sweets with her today, all the more reason for the useless pigs in the squad room to be drooling when they encircle her like savage vultures. Aomine snatches the box of pastries from her and tosses it onto one of the desks and grabs her by the wrist, yanks her maybe just a little too hard out of the way of the other perverts to an empty interrogation room.

"Satsuki, what did I tell you about calling me that in front of everyone?" Aomine growls when he releases her.

Satsuki laughs, tugs on the hem of Aomine's silver suit jacket. "What's the matter, Dai-chan? Afraid everyone's gonna start calling you that?"

"No," Aomine grates, pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration. "I'm their sergeant, and not only is paying me personal visits at work unprofessional but so is that goddamn nickname. You've been calling me that since we were kids, Satsuki. Don't you think it's time you grew up?"

"Don't lecture _me_ about growing up," Satsuki snorts as she hops on the interrogation room table and slides her bottom back so she can kick out her legs. "Where's Ki-chan? How come you aren't helping him? I saw the news, Dai-chan, and there's no way he did _that._ "

"I know, but the evidence doesn't look good. And I can't tell you any more about this case, Satsuki, so don't even ask. It's very high profile, and Kise's lawyer has already threatened me because we know each other."

"You two used to be really good friends — we _all_ were. Shouldn't you be trying to help him?" asks Satsuki, and all jokes are aside now, Aomine knows this face. The way her features fall soft and her eyebrows knit together, leaving this subtle crease in between them; and then the pink of her eyes gleam like liquid crystal, the corners of her mouth dip and Aomine knows she's about to cry.

He sighs, offers a hand to her shoulder in comfort and gives it a light squeeze. "We're doing all that we can, Satsuki. Kise has a very good lawyer, and I promise you I will work extra hard to find whoever did this to him — alright? Just promise me you won't get too worked up about this, or come into the precinct asking questions. That can be used against him, the DA can use it to say we're conspiring to tamper with evidence, or statements or anything that could potentially cast reasonable doubt. Do you understand?"

Satsuki sniffles and brings her hand up, wiping underneath her nose with the back of it. "Yeah, okay. Just make sure you look out for him. I can visit him, can't I?"

"I don't think that's a good idea," Aomine snaps. "The men inside that prison are -" Aomine considers his choice of words here, careful as to what he says can also upset Satsuki on a level where she becomes fearful for Kise's safety, and thus getting a little hysterical and Aomine doesn't really want to have to deal with such troublesome and trivial things when he's already gotten so much more on his plate. "Look, if you're gonna go visit Kise, take Tetsu with you."

"Of course I'd take Tetsu-kun in with me," Satsuki chirps, smiling wide.

"Doesn't he ever get tired of your childish honorifics?" Aomine sighs, checking his dress shirt and tie for any noticeable coffee stains. There aren't any, but he can smell the coffee wafting under his nose with every movement he makes and it's only going to annoy him further on in the day. Perhaps he will have to change after all.

"Tetsu-kun is a sucker for my charm, Dai-chan. You should know that by now," Satsuki says with a wink. She jumps off the table and tucks a lock of hair behind her ear. The light in this room doesn't do it any justice, but in the natural sunlight, her hair looks like sugar-spun candy floss, bright pale-pink and glimmering, long and free-flowing in a breeze — sometimes Aomine wonders what it would have been like had he and Satsuki not been as close as they were when they were kids, like in a different universe she'd still be his type but maybe and she wouldn't love someone else and neither would Aomine.

"Hey — is Ki-chan really okay?" Satsuki asks, reaching out and tugging on Aomine's sleeve.

Aomine blinks and shakes his head like he wants to etch-a-sketch erase all the alien thoughts running around in his mind that at this point are just immorally wrong to have. "He's going to be fine, Satsuki. Stop worrying. Why are you out of work today anyways? Isn't the school missing their guidance counsellor?"

"Even guidance counsellors need a day off sometimes, Dai-chan. Maybe I just needed a little guidance of my own, you know?" She tips her head up to meet Aomine's gaze and smiles, and she's still as short as she was in high school, the perfect height for an armrest as Aomine often used her head for.

"Yeah, well, talk to Tetsu then. You know I ain't good at that kinda shit. Are you gonna be okay? I gotta get back to work."

"Alright, jeez. You don't have to get so worked up, Dai-chan. Maybe _you_ need a personal day off work."

"Yeah, yeah. I'll rest when this killer is caught," Aomine says as he nudges her towards the door. She turns abruptly, nearly causing Aomine to push at her breast instead of the back of her shoulder. He snaps his hand back like it's been burned and growls low in the back of his throat. " _What now?_ "

"What happened between you and Ki-chan?"

"Satsuki —" Aomine lets out an exasperated sigh before leaning around her to open the door. He moves her bodily part way through the frame and follows, turning so that he can dip in and get closer to her face to avoid suspicious onlookers paying attention to their conversation. "It's ain't the time or place for that, okay? Go home, and don't worry about Kise. I promise you I will figure this all out."

"Momocchi?"

Both Aomine and Satsuki turn in rapid unison, snapping their heads in confoundment toward the direction of the sound. Kise is standing at the reception counter with his lawyer who is currently handing papers to the receptionist.

"Ki... Ki-chan," Satsuki whispers, her voice still high and shrill enough for Aomine to know that she is very much upset. She has every right to be, by the looks of it, Kise has been through far worse than had he had been through while at the precinct.

Satsuki makes her way over to him and Aomine automatically follows, his stomach dropping like there isn't a such a thing as gravity. Kise's face is bruised and beaten, split swollen lip and red, ragged lacerations to his upper lip and face, and mottled blue-purple bruises paint an array of telling pain around his eyes. He looks like shit, and Aomine's gut is twisting in guilt, _fuck,_ he feels so sick to his stomach.

Satsuki doesn't stall once she approaches Kise. Instead, she throws her arms around them like they've been close friends all this time. "Ki-chan, what happened to you?"

Kise smiles, but it's broken. He's bending down to accommodate her height, wrapping his arms around Satsuki in return and burying his face into the thick hair gathered on her shoulder. He looks like he's a bit relieved, and Aomine can guess he was rewarded bail at the hearing. His emotions are mixed about this, he wants to make sure his feelings of nostalgia aren't clouding his judgment, he wants to believe Kise is guilty so that they don't have to worry about a psychopath out there plotting more murders, or Kise's own at least. But one look at the other man's face, one glance into the soft gold of Kise's eyes when he opens them, has Aomine faltering on his beliefs, would even falter on his own religion if he had one.

"Just a couple of bad days," Kise says, his tone full of false optimism like Satsuki isn't asking him how he is being accused of murder, and how he managed to get the shit beaten out of him. Kise lets her go, takes a step back and glances over at Aomine. He isn't sure what to say, he isn't done playing bad cop just yet so Aomine ignores the invitation for _hey, are you okay? Jesus fuck I am so sorry_ and starts in on Kaori, who's a much better candidate for his lash out of anguish and guilt.

Except she turns to Satsuki before Aomine says anything. "Who's this?"

"Ah. Kuroko Satsuki," Satsuki replies, taking a short bow. "I'm a good friend of Ki-chan's. I came here looking to find out how he was doing."

"That's great," Kaori says, also bending over in a subtle bow. "Junko Kaori, Kise-san's attorney."

"Ah, Ki-chan! She looks like she's amazing at her job, Kasamatsu must be taking really good care of you!" Satsuki gushes, hooking Kise's arm with her own. It makes Aomine roll his eyes and he has to start fiddling with items on a nearby desk to keep himself from being ignorant. "Is he free? Can he go home?"

"Not yet," Kaori says, her eyes flickering to Aomine for a moment. "But he was given bail and he'll have to stay in a halfway house until his trial date, or until new evidence comes to light and Kise-san is acquitted." Kaori looks at Aomine again, and he wants to interrupt, say it isn't fair that Kise be put in some halfway house full of thugs and criminals but...

"Doing your due diligence, sergeant?" Kaori asks before Aomine has a chance to open his mouth.

"Of course," Aomine scoffs. "Not my problem that pretty boy -"

"I'll have you refrain from calling my client the name for him coined by the killer," Kaori grates coldly, lifting a hand in a gesture to silence him.

"Dai-chan," Satsuki gasps in mock horror. She's still gripping Kise's arm, tight like she's afraid he's going to be taken away if she lets go as if she has any chance of stopping it if they did.

"Yeah, I got it," Aomine snaps. Heat flushes hot under his skin, with all eyes on him and he has to turn on his heel and turn his back to them. He feels like the walls in the precinct are closing in around him and the air is getting thinner. He tugs at the knot in his necktie, hopes that by loosening it he won't feel like he's being strangled, _fuck,_ what was he thinking.

"Can't Ki-chan stay with me and my husband?" he hears Satsuki ask, and as much as Aomine wants to agree that it might be a good idea, there are several reasons as to why he just can't. Namely that if Kise _is_ the killer's next victim, he'd be putting them in danger too.

"Momocchi, you're married?" Kise gasps.

"Mhm, to Tetsu-kun!" Satsuki gushes.

"Kurokocchi?! Wow, congratulations! I haven't seen Kurokocchi since forever!" exclaims Kise, and Aomine can just see the stars in his eyes sparkling.

"I could try to work around that," Kaori says. "It might be better for Kise-san to be surrounded by loved ones -"

"No," Kise says and Aomine nearly drops the cup holding pens and pencils he's been idly playing with since feigning ignorance. "I couldn't ask that of you guys. I'm not really sure what's going on and that'll be just too much to ask for."

"Don't be so modest, Ki-chan. You're in a rough spot, we're your friends and we want to help you."

"If the police do their job, Kise-san will be a free man in the next few days. There's nothing to worry about, Momoi-san."

"I really couldn't," Kise says. "But it'd be nice to see you and Kurokocchi again. Maybe when this is all over, we can go for dinner somewhere nice."

"I'd love that! I'm sure Tetsu-kun would too."

Aomine is just beginning to drown them out when he catches a glimpse of Nijimura entering an interrogation room with a woman on the other side of the pen. Seeing as Nijimura is his partner, Aomine's confusion and agitation is just since he wasn't made aware of this interrogation. Without saying goodbye to the crowd behind him, Aomine stalks across the squad room and raps on the door. The light is on, showing that there's an interrogation in progress and Aomine can see the woman through the two-way glass. She's thin and petite, with round brown eyes and long brown hair. She doesn't look like anyone Aomine recognises, and this murder case is the only thing he and Nijimura are working on, so this woman is likely a witness. It's odd that Nijimura would bring an eyewitness into the precinct, so she likely has more than just a statement to offer police in this investigation and if Aomine's memory serves correctly, he remembers Kise saying something about a woman he took back to a hotel on the night of the murders, with brown hair and brown eyes. As Nijimura opens the door, Aomine's already concluded this is the woman Kise had been talking about, and he was right. She definitely has a lot more to offer them than just an alibi, she can provide them with a timeline as well.

"Oh, Aomine," Nijimura says in surprise, as he comes out of the room and shuts the door behind him. "You were with Momoi-san, I didn't want to bother you."

"If it's pertinent to this case, it ain't gonna bother me, you idiot. Who is she?"

"Couple of plainclothes officers working the strip picked her up for soliciting outside Lady Luck, a pachinko parlour in Kabukichō. And get this —" Nijimura's attentive eyes light up like he's just discovered a cure for all the world's disease. "— she had Kise-san's wallet with all his identification and credit cards inside."

"What?" Aomine asks, and it's just pure bewilderment that's rich in his tone. "What is a prostitute doing with Kise's wallet?"

"That's what I was just about to ask her," Nijimura says with a smile bright as the sun. "Wanna sit in?"

"Yeah," Aomine nods. "It's your collar, so continue with the interview. I'll just listen."

"Hard to believe a guy like Kise-san, pretty model and all that has to pick up prostitutes to bring home with him," Nijimura berates.

"Hey — we don't know the story. Don't go making assumptions before you take her statement, or I'm gonna have to take you out of there."

"Right, yeah. I didn't mean anything by it," Nijimura states.

"Yeah, yeah. Just open the door, let's get this shit over with."

Aomine follows Nijimura back into the room, watches as he takes a seat and the girl tips her head up to look at Aomine questionably. She's pretty, Aomine thinks - too thin for his liking - but not someone he'd assume was a lowly, junkie prostitute working the strip. She sits with her shoulders drawn back with elegance, hands folded neatly in front of her, and a leg crossed over the other with class. She's in a little black dress with black, strappy stilettos to match and her brown hair flows in loose curls over her shoulders. She looks nothing like the women Aomine have seen in Kabukichō.

"Kobayashi Sachiko-san, right?" Nijimura asks, opening the folder in front of him. The woman hasn't taken her eyes off Aomine, and it's not like it makes Aomine feel uncomfortable, but the need to open his mouth and vomit all these questions as to why Kise was with her, why she has his wallet, _why_ is she pretending to be something she's not and tricking Kise and most importantly how long she was with him is too great and he has to break eye contact, shift his eyes to she shine of his shoes rather than the doe of her eyes.

"You may call me Sacchan," she responds in a voice that's sugary sweet but mannered as hell like she's just stepped out of a school for training wives.

"Uh... Sacchan-san, then —"

"Please drop the -san," she asks politely. "We're all friends here."

"Right," Nijimura coughs. Aomine can feel the heat emanating from the other man's cheeks without even having to look at them. He might have to step in, which is a little disheartening. He thought Nijimura had bigger balls than that.

"Let's just get down to business here," Nijimura says and his tone has changed like he took a minute to compose himself and the steely persona Aomine is used to is back. "We'll drop the solicitation charge if you tell us what you're doing with Kise Ryōta's wallet on your person."

"I found it," Sacchan answers simply. "And I wasn't soliciting men, I was asking for a ride to the police station, so I could return the wallet."

"Funny thing is, the john that the officers arrested along with you claims he pulled over asking you for directions and you propositioned sex in return for money. Sounds like prostitution to me."

"The man is simply lying because he pulled over and propositioned _me_ and I declined. That's when your officers arrested me." Her voice is calm, steady like she's been through this a hundred times. "I see no reason to hold me here, detective. You may have the wallet back, I haven't committed any crimes."

There's a sharp knock on the mirror, and Aomine nods to Nijimura, indicating he'll be the one to answer. He leaves the room and there's a lab technician standing by the mirror waiting for him. Aomine doesn't recognise him, just knows that he's a timid and feeble man and the only distinction that allows Aomine to know where he's from is the white lab coat he wears.

"Sergeant Aomine-san - I found something that may be useful to your case." Aomine notices the subtle tremble in the lab technician's hands when he produces the folder like he's intimidated by Aomine's very presence.

"Tell me what I'm lookin' at," Aomine replies as he takes the folder and doesn't bother to open it to look through its contents.

"Uh, Nijimura-san asked me to look over the surveillance videos collected from the Yellow Jasmine nightclub? After going through most of them, I managed to spot Kise Ryōta-san with a small entourage of other men and women entering the club. The time stamp on the video is ten thirty-seven pm. Kise-san is there for about four hours, leaving the club with _that_ woman."

"Which woman?" Aomine asks, even though the lab tech had nodded his head in the direction of the interrogation room.

"The one Nijimura-san is currently interviewing," he answers with a sharp nod and a thumb jerk towards the mirror.

"Great," Aomine says, deciding to open the folder. It's full of less-than-stellar photographs, screenshots frame by frame, and reports that he doesn't bother to look through. That's more work than what it's worth when he can just hear it from the technician's mouth himself. "Tell me more."

His eyes widen like he's startled that anyone would give him the time of day, let alone someone like Aomine. He looks nervous, and Aomine can tell he isn't used to interacting with people much. When he opens his mouth to speak, no sound comes out and rather than Aomine snapping at him to hurry along, he waits patiently until the other man has mustered whatever will he needed to converse.

"Uh. Okay. Um -" He's off to a rocky start, and with anyone else Aomine would have likely lost his patience by now. He hasn't been in a good mood since Satsuki spilled coffee on his shirt - speaking of which, where is she?

Aomine does a quick sweep of the pen and he can't see Kise, Satsuki or Kise's lawyer anywhere. He feels maybe a bit guilty, maybe because he didn't get to say goodbye to Satsuki after being short with her, or maybe because he didn't do enough to get Kise into somewhere that wasn't a dingy, rat-infested halfway house. As much as Aomine hated to admit it, the guy didn't deserve that.

"The woman in the room approaches Kise-san at around eleven o' clock and is by his side the rest of the night," the technician begins, startling Aomine back into attention. "They leave the Yellow Jasmine at two thirty-two, appearing intoxicated and intimately entwined. She flags down a cab that is parked in the parking lot of the club and they enter it together. That's the last image the security cameras pick up of them. In the last still frame I took, the cab driver's number and face are clear enough to make an identification. I ran them through the system, and the license of the cab is registered to a Takao Kazunari, but that wasn't who was driving the taxi. After scanning the driver's face through the recognition program, there was a hit on an ID. The man driving the cab was Haizaki Shōgo -"

"Haizaki Shōgō?" Aomine interjects rhetorically. "I know that name... he's wanted in a series of trafficking and armed robbery cases — You're sure?"

"Yes, sir. The photograph is a little grainy, but the system quoted an eighty-eight percent facial match to Haizaki Shōgō. Also, the information for the cab company is all there, as well as the information on Takao Kazunari. He isn't in the system, but he had to register his car with the Department of Transportation."

"Is that all?" Aomine asks.

"Yes sir," the other man says with a tiny smile of pride.

"Okay, continue working through the videos, I want stills from the Mahjong Hotel next. Every single one that includes Kise Ryōta and Kobayashi Sachiko."

"Yes, sergeant Aomine-san."

Aomine turns back to the room to get Nijimura's attention but then he pivots and calls out to the technician as he's walking away. "Oh and uh—"

The other man stops and turns, takes notice of Aomine's pointed finger and grins. "Furihata Kōki, sir."

"Heh. Great job, Furihata," Aomine admits, before shifting his attention back to the window, where he can see that _Sacchan_ hasn't lost her composure yet, despite Nijimura implication and threat routine.

"Thank you, sir," Aomine hears as he walks into the room. "Yo, Nijimura. Lemme borrow you for a minute."

Nijimura turns and Aomine glances at Kobayashi Sachiko, who until now is still sitting primly and proper, without a care in the world. When their eyes meet, Aomine curls his lips into the most menacing smirk he can muster. She seems to get what that means when her eyes widen just enough that Aomine knows he's got her right where he wants her.

He hands the file over to Nijimura after shutting the door once they're out of the room. "I think you should let me handle the interrogation from here," Aomine says. He knows he would have a better chance of getting her to talk and roll over on Haizaki, killing two birds with one stone, since his way of handling suspects is to wear them down until they break.

And Kobayashi Sachiko has just become their number one suspect.

 


	7. Chapter 7

**VII**

* * *

 

The first thing Kise does with his temporary freedom is take a shower. The showers in this _bail house_ the court has put him in are similar to locker room showers. The stalls are all open with a partition about a foot wide and standing only a few feet tall. The tiles are cracked and broken and sickly green, like sun-faded broccoli vomit. There's grime several inches thick on almost every surface, and Kise has the fleeting urge to drag his finger through the filth but the concept of disease and infections is enough to keep his hands away from the walls.

When he turns the tap it screeches a long and hollow groan before rusted coloured water spurts out from the shower head. Kise jumps back with his pulse racing, he certainly doesn't want to be bathed in a fluid that is strikingly similar to the blood soaking through his sheets. The plumbing rattles and trembles and Kise's heart is pounding hard against his chest with the uncanny prospect that the pipes just might explode, showering him in viscous crimson — but they don't. Instead, a burst of shower spray expels from the fixture, and Kise lets it run clear before sticking a hand under the water to test the temperature. It's tepid at best, even though Kise has it on the hottest setting without risking scalding his skin.

It's good enough, he thinks as he steps under the spray. At least he's alone here and it's not entirely as inhumane as the prison accommodations.

The water isn't soothing at all, it's near frigid by the time Kise has finished washing his hair, and if it weren't for the cheap, flaky soap that smells of grandmother's fake lavender and patchouli potpourri or the watery drugstore brand dandruff shampoo that were given to him when he announced he'd like to take a shower, Kise wouldn't feel the slightest bit clean in this space or in these conditions. This isn't the large and spacious, marble tile and gold gilded fixtures he's used to. This isn't home. Now that Kise thinks about it, he hasn't had a home in a very long time.

After Kise is finished in the shower, he opens the gym bag Momoi brought with her when she picked him up from the precinct after she had left and returned to drive him to get some food that he didn't end up eating, and then to his halfway house, once he got the okay to leave under the conditional bail that had been set for him by the court. The manager of the house had to rifle through the bag for security, but Kise hadn't bothered to check it contents beforehand. Once he gets the zipper open, he sees that there's men's clothing folded neatly inside, too big and too dark to be Kuroko's, too warm and worn to be brand new. As he pulls the garments out of the bag, a scent wafts under his nose, like star anise and cinnamon. It smells good, and when Kise holds up the first shirt, his heart skids to a stop and his hands begin to shake.

He can tell right away that the shirt is Aomine's, and not only by the _Shinjuku 6-1-1 Police Academy_ emblazoned in crackled white on a faded blue backdrop, but that the shirt itself is two sizes too big and the spicy musk now rings familiar to his senses. When he slips the shirt on, it's like standing close enough to catch a whiff of allspice off Aomine's skin and warm enough that it feels like he's within the other man's embrace. It's ridiculous to think, but it's the closest thing he's had to desired human contact since this whole ordeal started and it's not even the real thing. He knows Momoi did this on purpose, after all he did tell her that he had missed Aomine too, but never did fill her in on why they had stopped talking so many years ago. It isn't important anyway, Aomine is an officer of the law and he's seen as a murderer and they will never be on the same side of the fence.

He hadn't realised until he asked Momoi to go shopping for him that his wallet and cell phone weren't with his personal effects; the wallet never being there in the first place and his cell phone logged into evidence. He was only given back his earring which had failed to make it into evidence as well, and a pack of apple-mint chewing gum. He can't remember where he left his wallet, can't remember the last time he even saw it but it's long gone by now and likely all his credit cards have been maxed out. Hopefully, he's able to count on his agent to cancel them for the time being, and his next step will be to start the process of getting all new identification. He'll do it tomorrow, maybe, for now, he's too exhausted to want to move another muscle, let alone think or be worried about things he no longer has control of.

By the time he's slipped on the track pants Momoi provided (also Aomine's), Kise is ready to sleep standing up and all that's left to do is comb his hair and brush his teeth. The mirrors here are dirty or rusted, some cracked but none are good for catching a reflection. He doesn't need to see his face anyways, he's caught a glimpse of it on more than one occasion through windows and the rear-view mirror of Momoi's car. He doesn't even have the energy for being shallow, upset that the face that's been his livelihood for the last several years is so badly banged up that permanent scarring may be a possibility, and that he'd likely never get hired for another modelling gig again. Who was he kidding — it's unlikely after his name and reputation have been dragged through the dirt like this that he'd have _any_ career left.

He's done everything he needed to do. When he exits the showers, Kise makes his way out to the bunking quarters, and he's relieved that the space isn't that crowded. It's nothing like a luxury hotel; the dingy white paint is bubbled and peeling in most places and the floor beneath his socked feet is cheap, yellowed linoleum but at least the beds have pillows and blankets. There are a few other men that occupy beds scattered throughout the large room, but Kise doesn't pay much attention to any of them, even if he can feel the heat of their glares following him as he saunters towards an empty cot in the corner of the room. Kise throws the gym bag onto the bed and eases down onto the mattress. It's too thin and he can feel the hard, metal springs digging into his side. The pillow smells like stale cigarettes and old sweat. It's not a pleasant stench at all, Kise would much rather inhale Aomine's scent off the t-shirt that hangs just a little loosely off his limbs, which is exactly what he does. He buries his nose in the fabric, pulling the collar up well over half his face and pulls up the little patch of blanket that is barely enough to cover the long length of him. It itches when it touches his skin, the pea-green wool is likely at fault, but Kise doesn't want to think about what else is lurking in and under the sheets that are making his skin crawl.

When Kise finally settles in with the idea of Aomine wrapped around him, rather than the pathetic and disgusting reality, the sun has already begun to set. Kise can see the dusky sky through the bars on the windows, and as he closes his eyes for slumber that hasn't visited him in over three days, he thinks that even with his newfound freedom, he really isn't free.


	8. Chapter 8

**VIII**

* * *

 

"Where is he?" Aomine asks the responding officer, and he doesn't clarify who he's asking for but by this time, the sole survivor of the Shinjuku Ward Bail House massacre has flooded the airwaves of television, radio, internet and police scanners.

"He's sittin' on the edge of that bus," the officer replies, jabbing a thumb behind his shoulder. "EMTs are givin' him a look over, but he ain't got a scratch on 'im. It's a fuckin' bloodbath in there, Sarge. Like the one before."

"What happened?" asks Nijimura, and he has to speak loud over the buzz of uniformed officers blocking off the street's nosy and chattering civilians, the shuttering of multiple cameras; from press and from the CSU, and the squawking of the reporters calling to Aomine and other officers to give them a statement. It's a fucking zoo out here, Aomine thinks, but his only concern is finding out what happened.

"So we get some anonymous call from a burner cell sayin' there's been a murder over at 3-18-3 Shimo-Ochiai. So me an' the partner take the call and we're the first respondents on the scene. We don't call no emergency backup or nothin', we just take a look inside, right? The place was a fuckin' write-off, right away all you could smell was death. My partner has to rush outside, puke his guts out, ya know? First time he's ever seen such a fuckin' mess. Me? I gotta strong stomach for this shit, s'why I'm gonna get into homicide like you, Sarge." The officer grins and nudges Aomine with his elbow, and while Aomine might have normally let this one in to stroke his ego, he's in no mood for idiocy and ass kissing this morning.

"Get on with it," Aomine snaps, glancing over the officer's shoulder. He spots Kise sitting in an ambulance, wrapped in a drab beige thermal blanket and an oxygen mask attached to his face. There's a sour looking dark-haired paramedic shining a light into Kise's eyes but even from this distance, Aomine can see the other is unresponsive.

"Right, yeah," the officer recovers, clearing his throat. "So we clear the scene and there's blood all over the fuckin' walls, body parts and brains everywhere — we ain't even figured out who they belong to yet, ya know? Body count's five includin' the house manager. Found blondie over there balled up in a corner, shakin' like a leaf. Fuckin' creepy shit, he wouldn't talk to us or nothin', just stared off into space like a fuckin' space cadet or somethin'. We called medics once we found 'im, called in the quintuple homicide too."

"I'll take the inside," Nijimura says, tapping Aomine's shoulder and gesturing towards the door of the house.

"Yeah," Aomine nods. "Okay." He forgets about the overzealous and informal officer and makes a beeline for Kise first, before going in to analyse the crime scene. It's fine, he'll catch up with Nijimura later; right now he'd just be a hindrance to CSU while they try to process the scene and he has a duty to get a statement from the only witness — also _suspect_ — first.

That's what he tries convincing himself as he quickly stalks over to the Kise, and as he goes he can't tear his eyes from the sickly grey pallor of the other's skin or the way the red and blue of the emergency lights wash over the pale of his hair and reflect off the plastic of the oxygen mask. When he approaches, he can see the now green-haired paramedic talking to Kise, and he can see the frustration pull at the man's face when Kise doesn't respond.

"I got this," Aomine interrupts, but Kise doesn't flinch, doesn't shift his glossy gaze to Aomine at all to indicate he's even acknowledged Aomine's presence.

"Good luck," the paramedic says arrogantly, pushing his black-rimmed glasses up the bridge of his nose with long, slender fingers wrapped in white medical tape. He stands to his full height and pockets the penlight. "I will have you know he's in shock. Body temperature was below ninety-four degrees when we arrived at the scene. We needed to wrap him in the thermal blanket to keep him from entering hypothermic shock which could have lead to seizures. Breathing was laboured due to hyperventilation and his heart rate was accelerated but they've stabilised with the assistance of the oxygen. He was initially and presently unresponsive to all verbal communication as well as the pupillary eye response test, I will have you know."

Aomine looks over the medic with the strange verbal tic, something he isn't a stranger to given Kise's tics are probably worse. The guy freakishly tall and lanky, Aomine thinks as if two inches of height over him is much of a difference. It's just odd, he supposes, to see a man of this height in this particular profession. Not to mention, he lacks the certain bedside manner that people in the medical field should have. "Is he injured —" Aomine drags his eyes down to the medic's chest to find a name tag, which he does, as well as a gaudy and tacky frog broach just below the name tag. "— _Midorima_ -san?"

"No, there's no sign of external injuries other than the abrasions on his face from previous altercations. I will have you know that's the extent of my examination, however, since he refuses to even tell me his name." Midorima crosses his arms over his chest, gives Kise an impudent look. "There's blood on the side of his face but, my guess it isn't his."

"Eh, why don't you leave the investigating for the big guys, huh?" Aomine quips, casually slapping the paramedic on the shoulder.

Midorima harrumphs when tips his head up in offence and moves to the side so Aomine can step in and examine Kise for himself. The paramedic was right, there _is_ blood on Kise's face — the same side as the streaks of blood marring Kise's face from the previous massacre. Except these aren't streaks, or smudges, splotches or splatters. It's a hand-print painted in maroon spanning the width of the right side of Kise's face.

"Has CSU seen this?"

"I'll have you know we did not allow the CSU to process the suspect until medical treatment was administered. They haven't been out to collect his clothing since, but I assume they'll do that back at the hospital or wherever it is this man is going," Midorima states flatly.

Aomine nods, and there's still no shift in Kise's vision even though Aomine is standing right in front of him. He bends down to get a better look at the bloody hand-print that's already started to dry and he's within an inch of Kise's face now, so close that he would have been able to feel the feathering breaths spilling off Kise's cracked lips. Instead, the oxygen mask catches them and Aomine is left to examine the hand-print without the distracting heat of Kise's proximity.

There are no ridges or swirl patterns in the blood from what Aomine can tell. He reaches behind him and pulls his own penlight out of his back pocket, clicks it on and holds it up to Kise's skin. Under the light, the purple bruises have a ghastly sheen to them, and the blood shines crystalline. "Kise," Aomine calls out, soft like he's speaking to a child. "Kise, can you tell me what happened?"

There isn't a response, and Aomine supposes he really wasn't expecting one. The hand-print is smeared and puckered, and if Aomine had to guess, it was left by a glove of some sort, likely latex. His sigh is heavy, it ruffles the strands of straw-gold adorning Kise's ear, as he slides the penlight back into his pocket and stands upright. Kise's glazed eyes are fixed, hollow like they're staring right through Aomine himself. He's hunched over underneath the blanket, curled into himself and Aomine's chest goes tight as guilt floods his veins and he has to fight the overwhelming urge to whisk Kise away from all this, shelter him from whatever is going on, this whole entire _mess_ of things that he's gotten himself into but... He can't. For so many reasons more than just the obvious ones.

So, "Any other live ones?" Aomine asks, turning to Midorima. He already knows there aren't any, but he needs something to distract him away from Kise's eerie and empty stare, from his still and hollowed out shell that is not even a fraction of the Kise Aomine once knew.

"No," Midorima answers, pushing his glasses up his nose. "I'll have you know, he will have to be hospitalised if his condition doesn't improve."

"Keep an eye on him," Aomine grates. "I'll be out to put him in the back of my squad car in five. Do _not_ let him leave your sight, or leave this vicinity."

"I am not an officer!" Midorima declares haughtily. "I will have you know I won't do your job for you, detective!"

"If you take him anywhere or let him leave, I'll arrest you for obstruction of justice and tampering with a witness — and maybe aiding and abetting a suspect in two major homicides. Got it? Oh and, nice frog," Aomine spits as he heads towards the front of the house.

"It's today's lucky item!" he hears Midorima shout and has absolutely no idea what it means, other than whatever luck that charm is supposed to bring the man, it isn't doing a very good job.

Aomine can smell the blood and other signs of death when he enters the house. A technician then hands him a pair of gloves and disposable shoe covers. He slips the covers on over his shoes as he ventures further up the narrow concrete stairs to the main floor of the halfway house while he puts on the gloves. There are bloody bootprints and a pair of sock prints tacked on the cement and the same technician tells him they've ruled those out as the two responding officers and Kise Ryōta's.

Aomine's chest is tight, so much so he's fighting to breathe by the time he reaches the landing. He knows it isn't because he's out of shape, no. It is because he's on the edge of furious agitation with no one to unleash his wrath on and as the early morning progresses, Aomine knows it's only going to get worse. He can't help but feel partially responsible for what's happened, he should have never let Kise go. He should have _believed_ from the start that Kise was being targeted, and now five more men have lost their lives and Kise is permanently traumatised because of his ignorance.

Nijimura is inside with the crime scene unit when Aomine walks through the door. Right away he understands the responding officer's description of the scene. There is blood cascading down every surface in the large space, spatter on furniture and castoff on the ceilings and walls, as well as another message written above the bed situated in the corner of the room with a gym bag on it. Aomine recognises the gym bag, it's his. Cold hits his veins like injected ice water, and his stomach drops into a bottomless abyss. The words smeared out across the wall read _It's more fun to play with you pretty boy_ and Aomine knows now, with all the dread that sits heavy in the pit of his stomach, that the killer is taunting Kise, torturing him. It's no longer about killing him, not yet anyway.

He has to resist the urge to go over to Kise's bed right away, as his throat closes over a jagged lump swelling up in the centre. It only gets harder to breathe, more panic now than anger and he has to rip his eyes away from the message, from the possibility that the murderer could have killed Kise tonight — that he was right over Kise while he slept, _touching_ him.

"Five vics, like the uni out front told us," Nijimura says, pulling Aomine out of his negative spiral that was about spin out of control. "It's the same guy, but we already knew that. He left us a message —"

"I saw that," Aomine snaps, cutting Nijimura off before he has the chance to go into more detail, crippling him mentally even further. He  _needs_ a clear head to be objective.

Everything else is similar to the Model House murder, and each of the bodies is staged on a bed like Hijikata Naoji except Aomine can already tell that not all the body parts strewn out across the four beds belong to the respective decapitated heads propped on the pillows. The man who managed the house was killed with the least amount of violence, and Aomine thinks this loosely; he's sitting in a leather swivel office chair stationed behind a desk, with his throat slit from ear to ear, so wide and so deep that Aomine can see the trachea and vocal chords strung on either side of the larynx. It's almost like the killer had pulled back the loose and ragged flesh after slicing it open to put the insides on display.

"As I was saying — Aomine? Aomine. You're going to want to hear this," Nijimura says, flanking Aomine's side and waving a hand in front of his face.

"Yeah," Aomine replies with several blinks, but he can't unsee the gruesome and dismembered mess. "I'm with you."

"Killer left us a note in the throat of the house manager."

"What?" Aomine shifts his eyes to Nijimura, and he's holding up what looks like a sheet of paper folded into a neat square with a pair of medical forceps. " _Another_ message? What's it say?"

"Haven't read it yet," Nijimura says, handing the forceps to a technician after plucking the paper from it. He carefully opens the square with gloved fingers, fold by fold until it's a full sheet of yellowed blank paper. "It's written in blood too, this time it looks like it was done with some sort of brush, not his fingers like the wall writings."

"What does it say, Nijimura," Aomine asks again, his voice dipping low and scraping the edge of irritation.

"Says ' _This letter is for the Shinjuku Police Department and Aomine Daiki. Don't take any of this murder stuff seriously, I'm just killing time.'_ "

"Fuckin' son of a bitch," Aomine grates. "Was that a fucking _pun?_ He's taunting us — and why address it to _me,_ specifically? I _am_ part of the fuckin' department."

"Dunno," Nijimura shrugs. "We have to go back and see if we can get Kobayashi to talk. She hasn't lawyered up yet. She was the last one to see Kise Ryōta _and_ she's affiliated with that pimp, Haizaki Shōgō."

"Nah," Aomine shakes his head. "They're not responsible for this. These guys are low lives, they were probably just tryin' to roll Kise 'cause he's got money. I don't think they're capable of mass murder."

"More like mass serial murder," Nijimura mutters in distaste. "The commissioner's gonna be up our asses on this one."

"Not my problem," Aomine says. "Let's get the fuck outta here. Kise _has_ to know something."

"It _is_ your problem now, sergeant."

Aomine whips around to come staring into the sharp heterochromatic eyes of district attorney Akashi Seijūrō. His strange elliptical pupils are blown wide with excitement and he's wearing the most spine-tingling, bone-chilling grin Aomine has ever seen someone express, and this situation isn't calling for any type of smile at all.

"They sent out the big guns, huh," Nijimura mumbles.

"District Attorney's office got too much time on their hands?" asks Aomine.

"Dotting all my I's and crossing all my T's, Daiki. Word travels fast, and I see that the suspect in the nonuple homicide is sitting out front being tended to by a very cranky paramedic who was told he'd be charged with obstruction, witness tampering and aiding and abetting a fugitive if Kise Ryōta managed an escape? 6-1-1 should know better than that," Akashi teases but his voice is laced with a toxin that invades Aomine's blood and pumps his body full of heart-freezing poison. "Why didn't you secure the suspect? If I didn't know any better, I'd have to assume that _you're_ the one guilty of all of the above. My assumptions _are_ wrong, is that fair to say, Daiki?"

"Yes," Aomine nods slowly, fighting the urge to flee, but to back down to Akashi in front of his squad would be the ultimate embarrassment. "He isn't a suspect. He's a _victim_. This note here and that message over there prove it."

"So it's all coincidental that the suspect just happens to be at the scene of both murders and the only survivor?" asks Akashi, narrowing his eyes.

"There's no proof of his guilt, Akashi-san. All the evidence we have implicating Kise Ryōta is circumstantial at best," Nijimura says, handing Akashi the note.

Akashi takes it from him, and scans down the page, his expression unchanging. "Ah, so you're a lawyer now, Shūzō?"

"No, sir."

"Why does the killer single you out, aside from the department?"

"Because I'm the lead investigator?" Aomine retorts sourly.

"And what does he mean by 'killing time'? Killing time before what, exactly?" Akashi asks expectantly.

"I don't know. Before he kills Kise, I guess."

"Well, this all seems like a lot of work for one psychopath to go through for the sake of his obsession with one man, don't you think?"

"It does, but he _is_ a psychopath, Akashi-san."

"This must have something more personal to do with you, Daiki. He singles you out in the letter and I am aware of your past relationship with the suspect — ah, victim —"

"There was no relationship, Akashi. I knew the guy in school. That's all," Aomine denies, and it's not entirely a lie either. "He's got to be watching us, how else did he know Kise was here? This information wasn't disclosed to the media to _prevent_ the fuckin' circus we have out front," grunts Aomine. The dead eyes of the dismembered men are starting to make him a little squeamish like he's being judged, like they know he knows something he isn't saying.

"Watch your tone when you speak to me, sergeant. I'm not one of your little boys in blue. If that's the case, Kise Ryōta should be placed back in holding where we can monitor him."

"With all due respect, Akashi-san, but Kise Ryōta has rights and he'd need to agree to that. Besides, I'm not sure locking him up would be the best way to catch this guy."

Aomine growls, snaps his head to glare at Nijimura in disbelief. "What are you saying, Nijimura? That you want to risk Kise and other innocent lives to catch him?"

"No!" Nijimura says sharply, raising his hands in surrender. "I just — _Fuck_. Yeah, I guess that's what I was saying. I'm sorry, alright?"

Akashi's grin is a malicious one. "Look, we're all on the same team here. As long as we win, I don't care what you two do, as long as it's within the statute of the law. And if it isn't — then make sure it doesn't come back to bite you in the end. There's pressure coming from the mayor's office to get someone in custody."

Aomine can't believe what he's hearing. "So what, we take Kise in and _what —_ pad the charges so that he's found guilty and goes to prison for the rest of his life?"

"What do you care, Daiki? I'm giving you the absolute freedom to do whatever you want so long as you clean up this mess," Akashi says. Nijimura has long since gone silent, and Aomine knows he's not agreeing with Akashi — they're both _good_ cops, they'd never — "If the murderer has it out for Kise Ryōta, perhaps he'd be satisfied with him behind bars, and then you can go about doing your grunt work to find out the real culprit. Perhaps the killer will take a grace period, giving the department time to do their job and find the _real_ murderer."

"I understand what you're saying, Akashi, but that's not how we do things. If Kise is a victim, we can't treat him that way. His lawyer would never allow it," Aomine argues. The image of Kise shaking in the corner of the room after discovering the mess keeps looping around in his head, and in no way can Aomine see a way around making Akashi's suggestion believable enough that the killer buys it without putting Kise through torture and he won't do that.

"Well then you better find out who it is and fast, Daiki, or the DA's office is going to have a lot to say in your participation _and_ implication in all this."

Aomine can feel his blood heating quick, like the fire underneath his skin is setting it to boil. "Are you threatening me?"

"Please," Akashi says as he turns away. "Everything I do is absolute. It isn't a threat, Daiki. It's a promise."


	9. Chapter 9

  **IX**

* * *

  
****

The way things start to come into focus, Kise can only explain, is like falling up to break the surface when you're underwater, the way that sound and sight come rushing in all at once in a cacophony of blaring white noise and blinding, glaring lights.

It jerks him out of his suspended state with a huge gasp of air, like new life's been cast into him through defibrillators and once he's coherent enough, Kise half expects to hear the command, _clear!_ to follow but this is no hospital room.

The first thing he notices is that he's alone and he isn't in the halfway house anymore. It isn't a hospital either, he's sitting upright in a plush, high back chair with a blanket draped over his shoulders. There's a large and wooden round table in front of him and two more chairs across from him. The room seems warm, with wood panelling and windows that allow the afternoon sunlight to flood over him, bookshelves full of magazines and books that line the walls and a children's toy box in the corner. It's comfortable and inviting and he has no idea how he got here.

What's next is the shrill sound of phones constantly ringing and buzzing and beeping, it's hard to take in all at once, even hurts a little. The room he's in has no phone, but through the slits in the blinds covering the window beside the door, Kise can see the 6-1-1 Shinjuku Police Department crest that's high above the reception desk in the front of the squad room. And with this comes a sense of déjà vu, and he can remember going to bed in the bail house, but after that, his memory draws a blank. He tries reaching for something, anything, but it's like reaching for rungs on a ladder and expecting the next one to be there to grasp but instead, you're just scrabbling at empty air.

"Kise?"

Kise jumps back in his chair at the scraping sound of his name. When he looks up, it's to see Aomine shutting the door to the office behind him. "Sorry," he mumbles. "I didn't hear you come in."

"S'fine. You doin' okay?" Aomine asks, pulling up a chair to sit across from Kise at the round table. Funny, he doesn't feel much like a knight with any kind of valour to call his own.

"I guess," Kise shrugs, pulls the blanket tighter across his chest because though the room is warm he can't seem to shake the chill seeping into his bones.

"You need somethin'? Water or...?"

"No, I'm fine... thanks. How did I get here?"

Aomine doesn't look surprised when he asks, "You don't remember?"

"No, I... I can't. Did something happen?" Kise tries searching again, but he keeps drawing blanks, like that part of his hard drive has been wiped clean.

"What _do_ you remember?" Aomine places a folder on the table and folds his hands out in front of him, and Kise can see the sparkle of a question flickering under the blue of his eyes.

"Um... After I left the precinct, Momocchi said we should go shopping, she thought maybe it'd help with the stress. So we drove to Shibuya but once we got there, I got really nervous about being seen? Especially like this." Kise laughs while he touches the tenderness of his face, and his voice sounds as thin and shaky as paper to his ears. These memories are easy, he can remember the day as clear as any worth remembering. The noise on the street, the warmth of the sun, the sound of Momoi's laugh — bright and shimmering like tinkling crystal and the apprehension that there might be paparazzi waiting in the shadows, ready to get him at his worst for their tabloids. Everyone's trying to make a dollar, too bad no one does it honestly anymore.

"So then what?"

Kise shifts his attention back to Aomine, and for all the years Kise hasn't been able to look at his face, he looks ten years older than he should be; tired and worn like the job lives more of his life than he does. "I told her I didn't feel like shopping, and she said that was okay," he answers with a flash of a smile. "Uh... So then she said we should get something to eat but I wasn't hungry. I haven't wanted to eat since that day."

Aomine bites his lip, draws an abstract pattern absentmindedly across the folder with his finger. "And after that?"

"After that, Momocchi tried getting me to eat and told me she wanted to take me to her place but — uh. I told her that wouldn't be a good idea. I don't want anything bad to happen to her and Kurokocchi, you know? Mm... so then, we drove around for a while and just caught up on the last nine years. About her and Kurokocchi and their wedding... It was really nice, I've missed her."

Aomine nods. "Mhm... Continue."

Nervously clearing his throat,  Kise continues. "And then Momocchi dropped me off around six? That's the halfway house curfew. I showered shortly after checking in and then... I went to bed. After that, I can't... I can't remember anything — Aominecchi, did something happen again? Am I in trouble?"

Aomine opens his mouth and shuts it again, presses his lips thin and stalls for a minute, Kise can see the way his ink-thin brows draw pensive. "I don't know, Kise," he says finally, sighing heavily. "Everything is kinda fucked up."

"Yeah," Kise nods. "Yeah, it is." He can't stop looking at Aomine, the way his lips purse when he wants to say something but doesn't, or the telltale tension in his shoulders or the charred smudge of insomnia under his eyes. "Aominecchi... Have you been sleeping? You don't look well."

His mouth quirks, then, an inch of a smile before, "Heh. You're not lookin' so hot either, Kise."

"Mm,  I guess not," Kise laughs and then everything in the room falls still; pregnant silence fills the space and Kise doesn't know what to say or do or what the day or time is and he feels a little out of his mind and the only thing that's keeping him tethered to this reality is the other man sitting across from him.

"Is everything okay, Aominecchi? How have you been?"

"I saw my old gym bag at the halfway house," Aomine deflects, ignoring Kise's question with ease drawling through his smoky rich tone. Kise startles, again, because he had forgotten all about the gym bag and the loose fit clothes that supply warmth and comfort laced within the worn stitches.

"Y-yeah," Kise stammers, new heat flooding his cheeks. "Momocchi gave it to me. I didn't know — I didn't know until after that your clothes were in it."

"My clothes?" Aomine asks, showing the first sign of surprise since he walked into the room.

"Yeah," Kise murmurs, opening the blanket to show off the faded navy apparel. He doesn't dare meet Aomine's eyes, the flare starbursting across his skin is too much of a tell and he quickly closes the blanket around himself like the motion will close off the emotions as well.

"Momocchi gave them to me. I didn't know," he says again. He can feel Aomine's eyes on him again, hotter than the heat under his flesh and when Kise looks up, he isn't wrong. Aomine _is_ watching him, eyes smouldering cobalt and for a second Kise can delude himself that he sees something there that wasn't before. But then Aomine's looking away too quickly, clearing his throat and running a hand through his blue-velvet hair.

"So that's what my bag was doing at the scene. I figured as much."

Kise blinks. "Scene? What scene — you mean... the halfway house? Aominecchi, what's going on?"

"I ain't gonna lie to you, Kise. There's been another murder. All men including the manager were killed in the same fashion as the other men from four days ago."

Kise's heart sinks to his stomach which has already plummeted to the floor underneath him.  "No... That can't be possible, " he whispers. "That's — that's terrible. Oh... Oh my god, Aominecchi. It's all my fault, isn't it?"

His eyes narrow as he leans forward, and Kise has to wonder if he's going to get the cop instead of the friend. "Kise... When we arrived on the scene,  you were sufferin' from catatonic shock. I'm gonna to ask our department psychologist to analyse you,  but in my experience, 'cause of the trauma, your mind just... broke."

"Huh? I'm not sure I understand what you're saying, Aomincchi."

"Look, Kise... What you've been through has been a fuckin' nightmare. And some people just can't handle that mentally, y'know?"

Kise recoils in his chair, puts as much distance between him and the contents of that folder underneath Aomine's hand. "I didn't do anything, Aominecchi. I swear."

Aomine's eyes fixate on Kise, sharp, like shards of cold sapphire. He's quiet, like something big is brewing in his brain. Maybe like he's about to put everything he's ever known aside and take a leap of faith.

"I know," he says after an aeon-stretched minute. He opens the folder and Kise instantly throws his hands up in front of his face, squeezes his eyes shut for an extra measure and objects.

"Please don't show me — !"

"It's alright, Kise. You need to see these. It's nothin' bad, I promise." Aomine sounds calm, reassuring like he's coaxing a child.

Kise takes his hands away from his face as Aomine's sliding a photograph across the table. He has to squint to make out the shapes in the picture, but the first one is of himself and the woman he was with the night of the murders.

"Do you recognise her?"

"Yeah, um... She was the girl I met at the club, but I don't remember her name. Uh... Sa—"

"—chan," Aomine finishes for him.

"Yeah!" Kise agrees, drawing his knees up to his chest as he curls into himself in the oversized chair. "That was her name! Did you find her?"

"Mm, her name's Kobayashi Sachiko, Kise. She's a prostitute."

Kise's bubble of laughter erupts out of his throat like an unstoppable force. "You're joking. I don't mess around with prostitutes, Aominecchi. Have you seen me? A shortage of women is not exactly a dilemma I have." It comes out a little more arrogant than he intends like he's bragging rather than defending.

Aomine scoffs, leans back in his chair. "Kise, I really don't care about who you fuck. Whether you knew it or not, Kobayashi _is_ a prostitute. We found her with your missing wallet, all your ID and credit cards still there. You were their target all along."

"Wha— wait. _Their?_ " Kise is confused, can't stop staring at the grainy photo of him and Sacchan, she's hanging all over him and he looks happy. It wasn't like it was _real_ happiness but he was better off than now. He doesn't understand how he'd be a target of some premeditated scheme.

"Us cops have a name for what she was planning, Kise. It's called 'rolling a john'. She was going to rob you after you were done and she did... You're lucky you left alive, most guys usually end up dead 'cause the pimps come in after and kill 'em. Keeps the johns from rattin' out their girls, or any other problems they might cause... Did you sleep with her?"

Kise considers Aomine's shift before answering truthfully. If he thinks Aomine gets a little testy every time he mentions his sex life, it isn't because he's being conceited. Aomine's just jealous. That's all there is to it.  "Yeah, I did. But I didn't _pay_ her for sex," Kise snaps with disgust.

"You said you left before her, right? How did you get home?"

"I... I don't remember? I flagged down some cab waiting in the parking lot of the hotel," Kise says, shrugging. "Why are you attacking me like this, Aominecchi?"

"I'm not attacking you, Kise. How did you pay for the ride home?"

Kise sighs heavily out of exasperation. "I don't know! I don't remember, okay? I drank a lot, I was high — I... I don't know."

Aomine picks another picture out of the folder and passes it across the table. "Do you recognise the man in this picture?"

Kise looks hard at the photograph, it's of him and Sacchan in the backseat of the cab and the flare under his cheeks at the recollection of them making out is only because he can feel Aomine's eyes on him, intense and watching. He shifts his eyes to the driver and his confusion only settles in deeper and his pulse picks up pace, because he _does_ recognise the man in the driver's seat. He's older now, and it's hard to tell and his hair is and darker — perhaps because of the quality of the photo but the man is no doubt one of the models he knew back in school.

"Sh... Shōgo-kun? I... I don't understand, he's back in Japan?" Kise looks up at Aomine for an explanation, but he isn't looking at Kise, he's pulling a pen out of the breast pocket of his black blazer.

"So you do know this man?" Aomine asks, jotting down something on the jacket of the folder.

"Um... yeah. That's... Haizaki Shōgo."

"You're sure?"

"Yeah, I — his hair was silver back when I knew him but that's definitely him."

"Okay... And how do you know him?"

"We shared the same dorm room on Paxton Campus. Uh, in Paris. He was a model, like me," Kise says. His voice is breaking, his eyes have started burning with the tears of surprise, confusion, shock, betrayal maybe. Everything is too much to take in right now.

"Uh huh," Aomine mumbles, and he's not looking at Kise, he's still writing in the folder. It's cop Aomine now, Kise figures, whatever he thought Aomine had been thinking or whatever way he thought Aomine was acting, it's gone now and this is all just business. "What was your relationship like with Haizaki?"

"It was rocky, kind of? I mean, we never really got along, we weren't friends or anything. Shōgo-kun was more interested in the girls on campus than actually modelling. I think he was jealous of me? The girls I would date he'd get with after and sometimes the girls he'd bring back to the dorm would be more interested in me. He was violent sometimes —"

"With you?" Aomine asks.

"No, no — ah, there was one time he cornered me in our dorm room, shoved me around a little because he thought I slept with his girlfriend," Kise replies, wiping the wet off his cheeks.

Aomine's eyes flicker to him for a second, expectant and judging. "And did you?"

Kise has to look away because the truth is embarrassing under Aomine's scrutinising stare and he can already tell Aomine will have something to say about it. "Yeah... I did."

"Mhm... And did you fight back?"

Kise can remember that night too, it's as easy as if it happened yesterday. He can recall smelling the alcohol on Shōgo's breath, and the stimulating effect of the cocaine Kise had snorted just before Shōgo burst into the room had him fight-ready, adrenaline prickling his skin and burning through his veins. Kise had been ready for a fight, probably would have fought had he been in more control of himself or if Shōgo hadn't fisted his collar and shoved him against the wall, his shirt hitching with the motion and the cold of the outside wall pressed against his bare skin. Or if Shōgo hadn't pressed his knee up against his groin, grinding with the intent to cause pain but all it did was make Kise's blood flare hot.

He can remember the way his breath caught in his throat when he tried to protest, the way Shōgo's skin felt hot against his own and the way his silver hair reminded Kise of Christmas tinsel in the dim light. He was yelling, but Kise had tuned him out and he had stopped trying to struggle. Shōgo was glaring, the glacial chill of Shōgo's steel eyes made Kise shudder, but something about the air turned electric and tiny space between their mouths was static charged. He was totally unsuspecting when Shōgo had tipped forward and smashed his lips against Kise's own with enough force to bruise them, and at first Kise wasn't sure if it had meant to be a headbutt and Shōgo was just too drunk to make the connect, but when Shōgo's tongue lashed out across the seam of Kise's lips, he remembers being furious and getting the upper hand then, driving his fist into the soft of Shōgo's gut and feeling the gust of hot, exhaled air against his mouth and the way that Shōgo crumpled boneless to the floor, gasping for a breath — the spark of fire in Shōgo's eyes when Kise had walked out. That was the last time he had ever seen Shōgo.

"Kise?"

Kise blinks himself out of his reverie, forces himself to look Aomine in the eye though it's proving to be a difficult feat. "No — I uh. I had a shoot the next morning, I didn't want my face to get messed up so... I told him to stop messing around, and he just left. The next morning I told the Dean that he was bullying me and Shōgo-kun was expelled that same day. The school has a zero-tolerance policy for any violence or bullying on campus."

"So you got Haizaki kicked out of your modelling college for what... because he was competition?"

"No — no it wasn't because he was _competition!_ It was because I felt unsafe, because he didn't care about the school anyway so... Yeah, I got him kicked out. That's what happened," Kise lies. "Why — Aominecchi, what does this mean? Why was Shōgo-kun driving that taxi?"

Aomine's gaze doesn't relent and Kise feels like the air in the room has just changed like summer turned winter. Kise shifts uncomfortably in his seat and starts tugging on the hem of the blanket around his feet.

"Say — did anyone actually study the curriculum at that school or do you all just use it as a cover for you guys to get drunk, get high and fuck around? Sounds like a school for sluts, not —"

"Aominecchi!" cries Kise out on the defensive. "It wasn't like that —!"

Aomine snorts. "You sure? You sure about that, Kise? 'Cause all it sounds like to me is a bunch of dumb college kids lookin' to get fucked —"

"That's enough! Enough!" Kise shouts, slamming his hand down on the table, heart racing and adrenaline charging electric through his blood. "Yeah, sure, the lot of us experimented a little, and sure we all slept around. It comes with the industry, with the lifestyle. I'm sorry, Aominecchi, I didn't know that in your old age you had become such a fucking saint! What the _hell_ does any of this have to do with why I'm here?"

"Wow," Aomine derides. "I like seeing this side of you, Kise. It's somethin' new, shows character. I had always thought you had no fuckin' spine, who knew."

"What is _that_ supposed to mean?" spits Kise. His entire face his hot with rage.

"So this guy," Aomine continues, like what he didn't just say carries the weight of a personal grudge. "He just pushes you around some and you get him expelled? Mm, kinda extreme for just that, don't you think? Were you afraid of Haizaki? Or was this more personal than that?"

"Personal? Why — what does Shōgo-kun have to do with any of this?"

Aomine is about to answer when the door swings open and Kaori storms in with a fury that Kise hasn't seen before. "Why are you questioning my client without my knowledge?"

"Kaoricchi —"

"Relax counsellor," Aomine drawls. "He's not being interrogated, I was just askin' him a few questions."

"That _is_ an interrogation, detective. My client is still being investigated for murder and his right to counsel is still in effect. Do you want me to have your badge for going against protocol?" Kaori asks as she rests her hand on Kise's shoulder and Kise wants to tell her it's alright, that he's not in trouble, that he didn't do anything wrong.

"There's been another massacre, and we've got some new evidence in the other case. We're just tryin' to figure out what happened," Aomine says as he gets to his feet.

"I didn't do anything wrong, I didn't do—"

"Not another word, Ryōta. Is the prosecution aware of this new evidence? Because I wasn't informed," Kaori snaps.

"We just discovered it ourselves, we haven't even had time to speak to the DA's office."

"Well, if it's evidence to exonerate my client, then you better get your asses on that, detective. Or is this another case of your prejudice?"

Aomine's laugh is sardonic. "Prejudice? Please, counsellor. You're pretty friendly with your client there, first name basis and all. Don't talk to me about prejudice and professionalism. Don't get yer panties tied up in a knot—"

Kaori moves so quickly that Kise doesn't see her until she's in Aomine's face. It's not actually his face, she only reaches Aomine's chest and the height difference would be laughable if it were in any different circumstance. "Do you have a problem with women in power, Aomine-san? Do I _upset_ you, make you _uncomfortable_? I told you to watch the way you spoke to me. I also told you I want you off this case because of your relationship with my client. Your hostility and harassment towards Kise Ryōta can only mean you have some personal vendetta against him—"

"Please," snorts Aomine impudently, putting some distance in between him and the lawyer. Kise can't seem to interrupt, nor he's not sure he wants to. If Kaori sees something he doesn't, he wants to know about it. "Vendetta? Counsellor, we're just tryin' to do our jobs." Aomine grabs the pictures off the table and hands them over to Kaori. "Kise has a previous personal relationship with the man driving the cab that took him back to the hotel. He's also the pimp of the woman in the backseat, who presented herself to Kise earlier on in the evening while at the Yellow Jasmine. She was found with his wallet yesterday and we're currently holding her while we wait for evidence to charge her with something."

Kaori looks at the pictures and then back at Kise. "Is this correct?"

"Yeah," Kise answers. "I know him from college, we used to be roommates."

"Did this man say anything to you, identify himself when you were in his cab?" asks Kaori.

"No... I don't think so. I don't remember."

"It's not even his car. The cab was registered to a Takao Kazunari —"

"And have you questioned him as to why a pimp was filmed driving his cab with a known socialite and prostitute in the backseat?"

"Yeah, it was a dead end. He reported his car stolen two days earlier. The guy's clean. He's got no record, not so much as a parking ticket."

Kaori points to Haizaki. "And this man?"

Aomine looks over at Kise and frowns, before looking back at Kaori. "We haven't found him. My partner is questioning the woman, Kobayashi Sachiko, right now in regards to his whereabouts. She ain't gonna talk though, that's her meal ticket."

"Well, why don't you lean on her with your brutal interrogation tactics, detective. Bluff her, let her know she's going down for nine counts of murder if she doesn't give him up," Kaori says with a smirk.

Aomine clicks his tongue off the roof of his mouth. "The day I need a defence lawyer to tell me how to do my job—"

"Enough, _please,_ " supplicates Kise. "No more arguing. Aominecchi, please just find out whoever did this. Who's _framing_ me for all these murders, I didn't do any of this!"

"Just relax, Ryōta," Kaori soothes. "I'm going to get your release from the judge overseeing the case and I'm sure Aomine-san is going to help with that, isn't that right, _sergeant_?"

Aomine is quiet for a minute and Kise can tell he's working something over in his head, the way he chews on his lip when he's in thought is a dead giveaway. "Yeah... Pending a psych eval, I'm sure I can arrange something... I dunno, I'll call Satsuki, you can stay with her and Tetsu for now. I'll post a two unis outside the door and a unit out front and one in the back of the apartment building. If there is someone framing you, they're not gonna get past them."

"No," Kise protests, fear sinking in and turning his blood cold. "I can't put them in danger like that, Aominecchi."

"You'll be safer there than on your own," Kaori agrees. "Please take the offer, Ryōta—"

"Fine, fine! I'll do it. I'll go. But you have to make sure they're protected Aominecchi. _Promise_ me you'll protect them," pleads Kise.

"I will. Just... Just stay inside, stay out of trouble. Do _not_ tell anyone about your release, talk to the press — or even your agent. If Haizaki's watching you we might be able to fool him into thinking you're here and he won't kill again."

Kise pulls at the frayed edges of the blanket distractedly. He doesn't want anyone else to get hurt, but what other choice does he have? "O-okay... I'll do it."

"And what about the other witnesses? Establishing timeline, where is your squad on that, detective?"

"We're working on it. Just do your job and I'll do mine. Let me know when you get the go ahead, and I'll personally drive him there myself."

"I don't think that's a good idea," Kaori says. "You can't be seen fraternising with a suspect, you know that."

Aomine sighs and Kise catches the soft blue of his eyes when he glances over in his direction. He doesn't frown but he doesn't smile either. If it's pity, Kise doesn't want it. But he can't even be certain that's what that look means. When he's with Aomine, it's like being on a roller coaster, and he's not even sure as to which Aomine he'll get.  "I'm as convinced as you are about his innocence, counsellor. Kise isn't a suspect. He's a victim."


	10. Chapter 10

**X**

* * *

 

"Where is he, Kobayashi?" Aomine seethes, slamming the door behind him.

Nijimura whirls around in his seat and Kobayashi Sachiko jumps near out of her chair. It's only a split second of fear Aomine sees flickering in her wide brown eyes, before she's composed herself enough to tip her chin up and stick her nose in the air and respond with, "I don't know who you're talking about."

"Your pimp," Aomine snaps. "Haizaki Shōgo."

"Aomine —"

Now her eyes are challenging, which fit to match the regality in her posture as she glares at Aomine. "I'm not a prostitute, so I cannot possibly have a pimp. And I do not know the cab driver in the photograph. You officers are grasping at straws, _sir._ "

"We know you were with him on the night of the murders. You were the last ones with Kise Ryōta. If you don't tell me where the fuck Haizaki is, we'll charge you with accessory to nine counts of murder. You think that pretty little ass of yours is gonna last in a female penitentiary? They're _far_ worse than male facilities." Aomine stalks over to her side and looms over her so he can gain the advantage of height for intimidation, though he's not exactly sure it'll work. "So spit it out."

Her defiant eyes don't leave his face for a long period of time like they're having a staring contest and the alpha of the two will be determined when the other one breaks. Aomine doesn't relent. Nijimura says nothing but Kobayashi only lasts another moment before she closes her and runs her hand through her hair as she sighs like she's letting him win.

"Sergeant Aomine-san, your scare tactics and threats do nothing to intimidate me, especially since I haven't committed any crime. I've allowed you to ask your questions without the presence of a lawyer, but I think I might have to invoke," Kobayashi says, leaning back in her chair and crossing a leg fluidly over another.

Aomine's eyes are drawn to the smooth cream of her skin, follow the length of her legs to the stark hem of her dress. She knows she's watching him, he can feel the heat of her gaze prickling his skin.

"Like what you see, officer?" she whispers, her tone so low that Aomine is certain only he heard it, even if Nijimura is only a few feet away.  He blinks hard against the temptation and pushes himself off the table. "Shut up," he growls and begins working the floor. He's considering his next move when Nijimura speaks.

"Kobayashi-san — uh, Sacchan... We've placed you in the cab with Kise Ryōta and we know the two of you went to the Mahjong Hotel ten minutes away. Can you tell me when you arrived?"

"I've already told you, detective. I went to a hotel with Kise Ryōta because he promised to introduce me to his agent. He said I had a pretty face and that the cameras would love me. I've got big dreams, Nijimura-san."

"And was that what you did? His manager was waiting for the two of you at the hotel at..." Nijimura looks down at his notes and begins tapping the pen he's holding on the bottom of his chin. "Two thirty in the morning?" He glances back up at Kobayashi and smirks. "Just what kind of introduction was this?"

"What are you trying to imply, Nijimura-san?"

"Did you have sex with Kise Ryōta or not?" barks Aomine. The thought unsettles him, he's heard his fair share of Kise's past that he rather wished he hadn't, and it doesn't seem like it's ever going to end. And he just had to come crashing through his life just when Aomine had gotten used to pretending that Kise Ryōta, the model, never existed.

"Of course I didn't. I have respect for myself," Kobayashi replies haughtily, flipping her hair back over her shoulder.

"Respect my fuckin' ass," Aomine grates, leaning over the table again. He's inches from her face now, can see his reflection in the sheer of her gloss. "He says you did. You guys went back to the hotel, had sex and here's what I think happened. He was so drunk, he barely knew his own name. You called up your pimp and told him to get Kise out of there after you robbed him. Except, Kise wasn't just some random target — even if he is wealthy. No. Your pimp has some vendetta against him and his plan was to frame him for murder. So while you're being what prostitutes do best, he's murdering nine innocent men — show her the photos, Nijimura."

"Aomine," Nijimura sighs. "I don't think —"

"Show her the fucking photos!" Aomine shouts. Kobayashi looks away and Nijimura slides the photographs across the table. Aomine grabs one without even looking, but he's convinced that they might be able to stir a reaction in her. "Look," he says, shoving the picture in her face and grabbing another one. "Look at these men. All dead and cut up. _Your pimp_ killed these guys so that the two of you could frame him for murder. Except your fuckin' boss is psycho, and he killed again — look, all these guys are fuckin' chopped up too. He poses them, on the bed, like he's modelling their corpses for us—"

"Aomine—"

Aomine ignores Nijimura's warnings and he keeps the pictures in Kobayashi's face even though her eyes aren't open to see. "Did you know he used to be a model? Did you know he knew Kise, and that Kise got him expelled from college all over some girl? You might think that's romantic, but that's what these guys do. Guys like Kise and Haizaki, they just like to hump and dump and _no girl_ is special to them — not even you. You think he gives a shit about you, Kobayashi? He doesn't. He's not here, taking care of you, is he? Haizaki isn't protecting his investment at all, he's more concerned with getting revenge than with your well-being. With your _life._  How does that make you feel?"

"Sergeant Aomine —"

"He murdered five more men last night, and left a message for Kise, just like he did the first time around. _Look at the photos, Kobayashi!_ "

"Aomine, that's enough."

Kobayashi doesn't open her eyes, keeps her head turned and tucked into her shoulder. She doesn't say a word and Aomine's heart is racing with fury, _she knows where he is —_ it's all he needs to know so he can arrest Haizaki and throw him in jail and all of this will go away for Kise. "He's obsessed with Kise Ryōta, says he's having fun playing with him. Did you know your boss was a serial killer? A fuckin' sick and twisted bastard? He hasn't killed Kise — this time, he was close enough to leave a bloody handprint on Kise's face. This is all a game, and your just a pawn, Kobayashi. He's fucking with Kise and leaving you here to rot while we charge you with accessory to fifteen counts of murder —"

"I don't know anything," Kobayashi says without opening her eyes, and the shiver in her voice is clear enough for Aomine to make out. She's scared, she knows exactly what he's talking about and it's all Aomine needs to validate his theory. "I want a lawyer."

Aomine slams his palms down on the surface of the table, the bellowing sound echoes off the walls and ring in his own ears. "You'll get a fuckin' lawyer when you tell me where the fuck he is!"

"Daiki!" Nijimura interjects, shooting up from his seat.

"Take a break, sergeant."

"Captain..."

Aomine's chest is heaving, and he doesn't move even at the sound of his captain's voice. "I don't need a break," he says, calm like he means it.

"I'm not asking," his captain replies.

When Kobayashi turns, she's got a grin on her face, slight and small but obviously enough that Aomine knows she's mocking him. That's when he knows he has to leave the room, following close on his captain and Nijimura's heels, because he can feel his blood boiling under his flesh and it's the first time he's ever let his frustration get the best of him with a witness. The first time he's ever wanted to crush a woman's skull into a steel table.

Once the door is shut to the room, Aomine sets his anger on the men out in front of him "I've been in homicide for seven years — I _had_ her and you're just gonna pull me out of the interrogation? Don't you think I know what I'm doing? She _knows_ we're on to them —"

"Enough," Harasawa says, holding his hand up to silence Aomine. "That wasn't an interrogation, that was you losing your cool. Are you done?"

Nijimura pushes a hand through his dark hair and sighs. "She wasn't going to give him up, Aomine."

"She invoked," says Harasawa. "If they are guilty, do you really want to get a coerced confession that would be inadmissible?"

Aomine exhales a gust of breath, rocks back on his heels and tries to redeem himself. "Fine, yeah, you're right. But she knows something she's not tellin' us, captain. A _lot_ of things."

"Everything she said was a lie," Nijimura agrees. "And your theory does seem plausible. Haizaki would be able to commit all nine murders and dismember the last victim in the three hours. The quality sucks, but Haizaki also looks like he's roughly the same build as Kise. And if he had to go back to the hotel to drive Kise home, then he couldn't do it covered in blood."

"Good, good. Run with that," nods Harasawa. "We know he's likely to be working out of Kabukichō. Have Nakamura and Sato canvas the area, show his picture to the shop owners. See if the local yakuza won't help get a trouble-causing pimp off their turf. I'm sure they don't want police sniffing down there, and promise them we'll make their lives hell if they don't tell us."

"Okay, I'll give Sato a call now," Nijimura says, pulling his cell phone out of his pocket.

"I'm telling you she's guilty and this is our guy, captain. He's got a grudge against the victim and he was the last person to see Kise before the murders were committed," Aomine insists. "Haizaki's good for this."

Harasawa pulls at an ink-black spiral framing his face. "What about the bail house murders? Anything to implicate Haizaki?"

"Not yet," Aomine says. "Cameras outside and inside the house were smashed just after nine p.m. They were done from an angle that didn't capture the perp. No fingerprints, partials, bootprints in blood — nothing. CSU is still combing over the scene and the surrounding area. We might be able to find gloves or bloody clothes. _Something._ Haizaki's good for this," Aomine repeats.

Harasawa's twirling the strand of hair now, curling it around his index finger idly while he purses his lips in thought. "Are you sure... Are you sure that the relationship between you and Kise Ryōta isn't influencing this decision in any way?"

Aomine scoffs, rolls his eyes for an added display of annoyance. "Why does everyone keep calling it a relationship? I haven't seen or spoken to the guy in nine years. He's just another spoiled celebrity. Still, it doesn't mean he's gotta get framed for somethin' he didn't do. I just want the murderer off the streets. Pretty soon the public's gonna be in an uproar askin' us when we're gonna apprehend Kise Ryōta 'cause they all think he's guilty."

"Mm... The mayor and the DA's office is gunning for Kise's blood too. They're under a lot of pressure from the city to tack these murders on him; show that just because he's a celebrity, he won't get away with murder."

"Sato and Nakamura are in Kabukichō now, following up on some of the witnesses from the Yellow Jasmine they didn't have a chance to interview yet. I sent them Haizaki's rap sheet along with his face. They're gonna show Haizaki's picture around, see if he was ever seen in or around the Yellow Jasmine before the other night," Nijimura says, tucking his phone back into his pocket.

"Good. Nijimura, I want you to stick around. See if after the public defender confers with Kobayashi Sachiko, that they'd be willing to deal down in exchange for information. Aomine... Go home, get some rest. You look like you haven't slept in a week."

"Yeah... Okay. Call me if you get anything."

"'Course," Nijimura says with a wave.

Aomine doesn't want to leave, but he also knows there isn't anything more he can do here. Not with Kobayashi lawyering up and the captain breathing down his neck. It's not like he planned on going home tonight, knowing there are other parts of town where he can search for Haizaki. It's true, he hasn't slept well at all in the last week but as long as Haizaki is out there with Kise's life in his hands, Aomine won't be sleeping anyway.


	11. Chapter 11

**XI**

* * *

 

"Mm... Momocchi — you _can_ cook." Kise leans back in his chair, closes his eyes and lets the pillowy chunk of buttery egg melt out on the tip of his tongue. It feels good to be somewhere safe, to be somewhere that feels almost like home.

"It must have been a long time since you had something decent to eat," Kuroko deadpans. "Your taste buds seem to have forgotten what real food tastes like."

"Tetsu-kun!" Momoi gasps as she pours some dinner saké into both his and Kuroko's cups. "I wasn't sure if you'd like katsudon, so I'm really glad to hear you say it's tasty."

"Kurokocchi," snorts Kise. "Don't be so mean. It's true, Momocchi was terrible at cooking before —"

"Ki-chan!"

"— but I think this is really delicious!" Kise flashes a smile as he picks up a slice of breaded pork with his chopsticks and pushes the meat into his mouth. It really isn't that bad at all, and it has been a while since he's eaten anything, he can't actually remember when his last meal was. "And the meat is cooked perfectly," he chimes while chewing.

Kuroko takes a square cup for himself and hands the other across the table for Kise to take. "Seems like you forgot your manners as well, Kise-kun."

"Oh Tetsu-kun, stop it. Ki-chan's been through enough without having to deal with your cruelty," Momoi scolds as she walks back to the kitchen. The layout of the apartment is spacious, open concept with clean lines and shiny-new appliances. The decor reminds Kise of Kuroko, with soft blue walls and light grey accents; crisp white furniture and furry shag rugs. Everything is calming, subdued and tranquil like a spa would be, down to the brushed nickel basin sink and tiny white and black rectangular tile backsplash in the kitchen. There's an island centred in the middle, with bar stools at either side, and coming out from the kitchen is the slot of space where they have their modern glass and brushed nickel table to match the rest of the modern furnishings. It suits them, Kise thinks, even if it's nowhere near the size of the house he had lived in before.

Kuroko's grinning around his chopsticks when he says, "He makes it so easy."

"Kurokocchi — you're so mean. You always have been," Kise mock-whines. "You're supposed to be my best friend."

"I never agreed to that," Kuroko says. "Besides, isn't Aomine-kun your best friend?"

It's odd to hear Kuroko use the fond and familiar honorifics with his and Aomine's name and then to hear him call Momoi by her first name. It's like nothing's changed when everything has. "Kurokocchi, you've always been the one I look up to."

"No, Kise-kun... I've always looked up to you."

Kise feigns surprise, slipping into the routine banter between himself and Kuroko, picking up right where they left off like Kise never left. "R-really?! That's such a nice thing to hear, Momocchi, don't you think so? All this time _I_ was Kurokocchi's mentor!"

Momoi's laughing as she comes back to the table with a glass of ice water for herself. "Aw, Tetsu-kun, you never told me that was how you really felt about Ki-chan!"

Kuroko cocks his head to the side and blinks. "Mentor? No, Kise-kun. I've always looked up to you because you're taller than me."

"Kurokocchi — you— that was good," Kise admits with a laugh. He's just shovelling a mouthful of cabbage past his lips when he catches Momoi standing at the head of the dinner table, gazing out towards them both. She looks fond and a little perplexed like she wants to say something but she doesn't know how. "Momocchi?"

Kuroko looks up, chopsticks suspended over his bowl. "Satsuki... is everything okay?"

Her mouth slides into a smile, one of the biggest Kise has ever seen on her, and nostalgia sparkles like champagne in her eyes. "I was just thinking how much this feels like the old days, when we were all together, right? Before you —" Momoi cuts herself short but Kise can hear the ' _before you and Dai-chan stopped being friends'_ that she held back. Kise doesn't say anything but he does smile despite feeling like the question as to why lingers thick in the air.

"Anyway," Momoi recovers, clearing her throat and taking her place beside Kuroko at the table. "I used a recipe book for the katsudon to be honest. I really can't cook to save my life. Tetsu-kun and I eat out a lot of the time," she laughs.

"It's really fine. You've been getting better at it since you started classes," Kuroko says with a quirk of a smile as he reaches for Momoi's hand and gives it a squeeze. It's still strange for Kise to see them together, as he always thought Momoi's interests in Kuroko would end up being unrequited because of his apathetic outlook on romance, but she must have done something right to get Kuroko to put a ring on her finger. On second thought, he thinks that Kuroko is the one who's lucky to have fallen for such a wonderful girl when he sees the way Momoi looks at Kuroko now like he's the only thing worth gazing at in all of the cosmos and when Kuroko looks at her it's exactly the same thing. He's seen that look before, hidden behind a curtain of satin lashes and two sharp pearls of sapphire but Kise wasn't ready to be anyone's universe.

"Let's eat!" Momoi chirps, picking up her chopsticks. Kuroko's gaze shifts back to Kise across the table, and he reaches for his saké cup.

"Cheers _,_ Kise-kun," he says as he raises the cup. Kise raises his own and kisses the edge of his square cup to Kuroko's.

"Cheers, Kurokocchi — Momocchi."

Momoi smiles and raises her glass of water. "To friends forever, right, Tetsu-kun?"

"Yes... I will drink to that," Kuroko says with a laugh.

Kise taps Momoi's glass and shoots the saké back in one swallow. It's smooth and leaves just a hint of what tastes like sakura on the back of his tongue. "Yeah... Friends forever," he concedes with another smile.

It's quiet for a while, and Kise keeps searching his brain for threads of conversation that won't lead back to the past but he can't think of anything except the present. He doesn't have much of an appetite anymore, but the saké is sure going down easy he thinks as he pours himself a third cup.

It's not long before Kuroko breaks the silence, and Kise is a little relieved it isn't about Aomine or what happened when they were kids.

"Are you really okay, Kise-kun?"

Kise's attention is drawn from the pale blue of Kuroko's eyes when Momoi's chopsticks clink against the ceramic of her bowl. "Tetsu, I thought we agreed —"

"It's okay, Momocchi," Kise says. He sets his chopsticks down in their holder and runs a hand through his hair. "I'm doing okay, I think? My lawyer told me I can't talk about the case but I saw a shrink today and he told me that I was repressing memories because of my traumatic experiences, so I don't remember a lot. I think it's bad, don't you think? For me to be acting so normal, sitting here laughing with you guys when everything is falling apart around me? I should feel sad, depressed —"

"Ki-chan... It's okay if you don't feel those things. Everyone reacts to stress and trauma differently. Maybe you're in denial, or maybe you're just too afraid to admit what's happening to you because that would mean that you're really in danger," Momoi says, reaching across the table and giving his hand a reassuring squeeze.

"It's a lot to deal with," Kuroko adds. "I don't think anyone would be able to be 'normal' after the things that have happened to you happen to them, Kise-kun. If anything, I'd say that makes you very strong. Some people might have broken down by now, but you're going to be okay."

The lump in Kise's throat hurts. It's like a jagged ball pushing on the tendons and chords in his neck trying to break free. He knows the tears burning in the wells of his eyes he won't be able to do anything about either, and he had promised himself after leaving the precinct he wasn't going to cry or be afraid. He had cried more than enough after being shown more photos of the crime scenes in hopes to trigger memories. He _had been_ horrified when he saw the mark of the killer's handprint across his cheek; pressed soft and affectionate against his skin, like a love letter. "Thanks," he says with a swallow.

"So how's the modelling world, Ki-chan? I miss it sometimes," Momoi asks. "All the glam — Tetsu-kun, wouldn't it be amazing if you were married to a model? Huh, huh?"

"It'd be amazing being married to you, whoever you had decided to be."

"Aw, you're so sweet. Where'd you learn to be so suave?"

"I simply have a talent for it."

"Kurokocchi, you've gone soft." Kise sometimes forgets that Momoi occasionally came with him to his shoots when Aomine was too busy or lazy to hang out with her. After a while, his then-agent started booking Momoi too, saying that she was the fresh new face they needed for the spring collection they had been shooting. She ended up modelling seriously for a little while but stopped when they entered high school so that she could focus on her education instead. Kise knows it had more to with Kuroko wanting to get into university for teaching and so that she'd be able to follow him, and Kise guesses she made the right decision since she ended up becoming a guidance counsellor for the elementary school Kuroko now teaches at. "Ah... It's okay, I guess. There's not as much work for me as there used to be. I guess you could call me a veteran."

"But you aren't that old," Kuroko points out.

"No, but they're always searching for fresh faces. Younger faces. 'Sides, no one takes you seriously once you start modelling underwear."

"They just want you for your body, Ki-chan," laughs Momoi. "But, what else would you do if you weren't doing this?"

Kise shrugs. "Maybe flight school? I've always wanted to learn how to fly."

Momoi smiles. "I remember! You and Dai-chan used to pretend you guys were aeroplanes with your arms out like this —" She demonstrates with by swinging her arms out, nearly catching Kuroko in the face. "— and you guys would spin around in circles as fast as you could to see who would get dizzy and fall first!"

Kise joins in the laughter as he recalls warm breezes on muggy summer days, the heat from the sun angrily bearing down on their tiny bodies as they ran through meadows and jumped rocks along the stream behind their houses. He can remember the lazy chirping of the cicadas and searching for crayfish with Aomine, Momoi skipping through the tall grass with the sunlight catching diamonds in her hair as it flowed behind her while she laughed and picked bouquets of meadowsweet, buttercups and daisies. He can remember the way the sun glinted off the sheen of Aomine's gold skin, the way it seemed to appreciate him more than others and the way his eyes would strike electric when he caught something. Those days feel like they're so far away now like they are someone else's memories and Kise is looking at them from someone else's point of view. He didn't realise back then how much that simple life meant to him because he always wanted more, he wanted the sky and the stars and when he got a taste of fame he wanted everything bigger and better.

"Remember that time you guys spun around so much that you threw up, Ki-chan?" Momoi turns to Kuroko, who's been silently and attentively listening the entire time. Kise is sure Kuroko's heard these stories before, but he's being a good husband and humouring Momoi at least while they take this trip down memory lane.

"It was really hot that day, and we all probably had heatstroke, but Ki-chan and Dai-chan were spinning around making these 'zoom-zoom' noises and laughing so hard I thought they both were going to fall over — but the next thing I know, Dai-chan is screaming 'Ew gross, Ryō! I'm telling your mom!' and I look over and Dai-chan's got a mess all over his shirt and shoes and he was _so_ mad at Ki-chan that he didn't speak to him for the rest of the day."

Kuroko snorts, clearly holding back a fit of laughter. Kise doesn't bother, it's been too long that he's laughed like this, too long that he's felt this high on just happiness alone. "Remember the time Aominecchi found that frog after it rained and the stream had overflowed? And he snuck up behind you and put it on your head... You cried for hours and he felt so bad afterwards that he spent all of his allowance on candy cherries for you."

Momoi pouts through her laugh. "I still haven't forgiven him for that, you know!"

"Is that why you're so squeamish around reptiles, especially frogs?" asks Kuroko. He sounds like he's asking a sincere and curious question, but he knows this story for sure, Aomine's told it a dozen times. 

"You know that's why, Tetsu-kun! Oh — remember that one time at Maji Burger —"

"— where you ran in and tackled Kurokocchi after we won the championship game against Kirisaki Daīchi? And his vanilla shake exploded _everywhere?!_ All over the customers and us and everything. You even got it in your hair, Momocchi!"

"That was a complete waste of a very good shake," says Kuroko. "And I sprained my wrist that day too."

"Aw. I'm sorry about that still," Momoi says, leaning over and pressing her lips to Kuroko's cheek.

"At least the season was over," adds Kise. "Come to think of it, that was the last season we all played together."

Kuroko frowns when he says, "You were away a lot."

Kise reaches for the bottle of saké instead of an explanation, but there's no weight to the bottle. "Ah, we're all out."

"Oh." Momoi takes the bottle from him and begins clearing off the table.

"Would you like a beer instead, Kise-kun?"

Kise hands over his bowl and checks the clock on the wall to his left. It's after seven, and he was hoping Aomine would have shown up but it doesn't look like that's happening. He could have one or two more drinks and soak in the bath for a while, do his aching joints and bruised flesh a favour. "Sure."

"I'll get it," Momoi offers. She's on her way to the kitchen and Kise watches the spiral of pink from her ponytail sway as she moves.

"You know, I can't thank you guys enough for letting me stay here. I know... I know it's a lot to ask —"

Kuroko pulls at the knot in his navy tie. "You don't have to thank us, Kise-kun. We're more than happy to help our friends. Especially you." He's got a healthy pink glow to his cheeks from the saké, Kuroko was never much of a drinker. That was more of Aomine and Kise's thing; sneaking cans of Aomine's father's beer, getting buzzed off of two cans just to laugh it off while trying to coordinate a game of one-on-one street ball on the dilapidated court two blocks from their street.

"I'm sorry about the door guards too, I really don't want to put you guys in danger."

"It's really okay!" Momoi protests, handing him a cold, open bottle of beer. She passes one to Kuroko as well and sits down. "I mean, it does make us feel safer. But we're mostly worried about you, Ki-chan. You've got a lot of injuries. And there's a crazy man stalking you. We really just want all of this to go away and for you to be okay, right?"

"Aomine-kun is very good at what he does," Kuroko says, taking a sip of his beer. "I'm sure he will catch whoever is responsible for this and get Kise-kun his life back."

"By the way, Dai-chan called earlier and asked how you were doing but he told me not to tell you he called. Are you guys still fighting?"

Kise takes a swig of his beer and swallows hard before answering. "Ah, it's probably because Aominecchi and I can't talk to each other. He'll have to take himself off as the lead on my case, it'd be a conflict of interest if we got too close. At least that's what my lawyer says... But... Aominecchi and I haven't really had much of a chance to talk about anything other than the case, either, so I don't know."

Momoi nods as she picks up her water. Kise can see the beads of condensation rolling down the glass and the chips of ice float aimlessly once she sets it back down. Then it dawns on him. "Hey, Momocchi, you're not drinking? Not a fan of beer, huh? You never did like the taste."

Kise watches as Kuroko and Momoi exchange a look, Kuroko nods and Momoi grins, and instantly he knows what's going on before anything is said.

"We're pregnant!" Momoi gushes.

"Actually, she's pregnant. I am not," corrects Kuroko.

Kise blinks at them for a moment, even though he suspected as much it's still a shock that has to have time to settle in. These are his childhood friends, and Momoi is just as much a sister to him than his own two sisters. "A-ah... Congratulations!" His voice comes a little shaky, a little too thin like paper but he hopes that it sounds genuine enough that it doesn't offend them. It isn't like he isn't happy for them, but it just puts too many things into perspective — his life, his future and that everything good in the past is just that. The past. Everyone is growing up, isn't it about time he did that too?

"Tetsu-kun is really excited!"

Kise looks at Kuroko's flat expression, maybe it's a little softer than when they were teenagers, maybe there's a hint of a smile now but he isn't completely overzealous like Momoi who can barely sit still in her seat, and Kise can just the see rainbows pouring out of her mouth as she talks and the giant stars that have taken over her eyes. She gets really animated when she's excited. "Seriously? Ha ha... How can you tell?"

"Oh be quiet, Ki-chan. Dai-chan said the same thing."

"Well... How far along are you?" asks Kise, keeping with the topic on the table and ignoring all paths that lead to Aomine.

"Three and a half months," Kuroko answers. "We haven't told many people, we wanted to wait until after the first trimester. You and Aomine-kun are the first to know."

"We actually told Dai-chan as soon as I found out. I couldn't keep it a secret from him," giggles Momoi.

Kuroko shakes a hand through his hair and stretches. Kise is feeling a little stiff from sitting for too long too. "We're going to be announcing the news to our parents this weekend, actually. We'll be leaving tomorrow morning for Nagasaki... So you'll be alone in the apartment. Are you going to be okay?"

Kise gulps down his beer. It's going to be the last for him tonight. He's had enough excitement and reminiscing to last him a lifetime and now he's just _sad._ "Yeah, of course. Aominecchi told me not to leave the house, so... I don't plan on going anywhere."

"We made sure the fridge is stocked and everything," Momoi says with a smile so wide that it crinkles the corners of her eyes. "When Dai-chan asked us to have you over, I was really excited so I went out and bought all the things you like. Or what I remember you like. Anyway, he knows that you'll be here by yourself so he told me he was going to double up on the security outside the door."

"I'll be fine, Momocchi, I promise. I'm really happy for you guys... And thank you again for letting me stay."

"Just please don't burn down our kitchen."

"I can cook Kurokocchi!"

Momoi grabs hold of Kise's hand again and squeezes it so hard it almost hurts. Either b that or Kise is just extremely worn down and exhausted. Her eyes are round and warm and pleading when she says, "Just be safe, Ki-chan."

Kise smiles for them both, but it's a show of false assurance. He's hoping he'll remain safe and okay and get through the weekend alive. If he doesn't sleep he should be okay, it's only when he closes his eyes that he's plagued with gruesome nightmares that seem to become reality around him. "Hey um, do you mind if I use the bath? I'm exhausted."

Momoi releases his hand and leans back in her chair. "Oh no, go ahead! You can sleep in the guest room, there's clean bedding and everything — I'm going to turn it into a nursery when we find out what we're having."

"I still think we should let it be a surprise," Kuroko says. "In some cultures, it's bad luck to buy things before the baby is born."

"I never took you for someone superstitious, Kurokocchi."

"I'm not really. I just think it's better to wait."

"Well, we haven't decided yet. Anyway, I only have Dai-chan's clothes on hand, since he's the only one who stays over from time to time. He's like a big man-child, I don't trust him to take care of himself properly, you know?"

Kise supplies another smile, even though he knows it's going to be hard to wear clothes and rest in a place his imagination will be all too vivid with. "It's fine, it's better than the jumpsuit they sent me home in after taking Aominecchi's clothes for evidence."

Kuroko nods and Kise rises from his seat, his legs are definitely jellied from being still for too long. His entire body and state of mind feel stagnant like he's just been _sitting_ for too long, trapped suspended in this hell with no hint of an escape.

"Well... I'm going to go take that bath now."

"We're going to clean up and head to bed. The towels are in the closet there and everything else you need is in the bathroom. Oh, I also brought you a toothbrush, since all your stuff was taken in... for evidence."

"Thanks, Momocchi, Kurokocchi. I'm really happy for you guys," Kise reiterates. "I'll say goodnight now, and I'll see you off in the morning."

Momoi moves around the table and throws her arms around Kise. She feels so tiny underneath him, just like when they were kids... and now she's going to have one of her own. It's funny how those kinds of things work out, how they can all come from the same place and end up on such different paths.

"Good night, Ki-chan. We've really missed you. It's unfortunate that they're under these circumstances, but I'm really glad you're here."

"I am too, Kise-kun. Please get some rest. We all know you need it."


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry for everything in this chapter.

**XII**

 

* * *

 

Aomine sits in one of the darker corners of the club. It's more commonly used for shady deals between men and women, or yakuza thugs and drug deals but tonight it's Aomine's spot of shame.

There are booths here separated by black glass partitions. It's made for VIPs, men — and women — who come here to get a different kind of entertainment than the establishment claims to offer. Once payments are made, there are rooms in the back to execute whatever one's fantasies are and the music pulses loud enough that no conversation or any other sound travels to the ears of eavesdroppers and the women working the poles are distracting enough that no one cares.

Aomine knows he shouldn't be here, if he's seen by anyone on the force it could go towards his credit of character but likewise, if any of the yakuza were to recognise him, all it would take is being in the wrong place at the wrong time and he suddenly becomes one of the blues under their thumb.

Despite the risks, he _is_ here on the job — undercover on no one's authority but he is working the case all the same. He has to look the part, cleanly shaven and dressed in a form-fitting, muted grey glen plaid _Isaia_ suit, shoes that cost close to seventy-thousand yen and a watch on his wrist that's triple that. It's the only nice suit he owns; the one he had bought for Tetsu and Satsuki's wedding, but no one needs to know that. He even managed to get in the door faster by slipping a wad of ten-thousand-yen bills into the bouncer's hand as he introduced himself under an alias. Money also gave him the opportunity to skip the mandatory pat down, allowing him to keep his gun hidden in a shoulder holster and his badge clipped to the far side of his waist, just in case. The last thing he wants to do is fuck this up in any way.

He pulls on his cigarette, looking around for Haizaki, or anyone who might know him and he's heard from an informant that this is Haizaki's main hangout. It's Haizaki's front for the human trafficking ring that Aomine has uncovered when he cross-referenced contacts and customers between Kobayashi and Haizaki. She's likely the madam, the woman who trains the girls after they've been broken in by their pimp, Haizaki and friends. So far he hasn't seen Haizaki, the owner of the club, or anyone that he recognises, just a few men sitting in pervert's row in front of the stage, gaping at the acrobatic women that sway around poles, rubbing their tiny, perky breasts with gold tassels that cover their nipples over the shiny surface, or slither around on the stage with their lengthy legs spread open in forbidden invitation and their mouths drawn open in mock ecstasy.

Aomine sips on the bourbon he's been nursing for a half an hour now. The smoke from his cigarette has been idly curling around his head like a silver halo for a long time, so long that Aomine can only remember taking one drag of it before feeling the heat of the embers burning close between his fingers. He snuffs it out in the ashtray and shoots the bourbon down in one shot. He has to look like he's enjoying himself or he's going to arouse suspicions.

Which is why when a woman approaches him with far larger tits than the women on stage smiling through shimmering peach gloss and inquisitive brown eyes, asks, "Would you like a dance, _master?_ ", Aomine nods coolly and watches as she closes the distance between them, his eyes drawn to the glittering neon in the gold sequins on the front of her thong. She's got the matching tassels and their motion transfixes Aomine, like a pendulum swinging, coaxing the watcher into a perilous trance.  She's got long, brown hair with loose curls that bounce off the tempting, fleshy mounds and though his body shouldn't betray him like this, Aomine's mouth is already watering by the time she sits down on his lap.

"What's your name?" he asks, trying to keep composure. It's fucking _hard  —_ like his dick is shamefully becoming —  _fuck_ it's just been so long and this is proving to be _extremely_ difficult _especially_ when she begins with a slow roll of her hips after settling her hands down on his shoulders.

"Mai," she replies with a smile. She smells as peachy as her gloss, and Aomine's got a sudden thirst for the sweet and quenching nectar, has the sudden urge to slide the flat of his tongue along her tawny skin and taste the candied flavour. "Yours?"

Aomine notices he's being watched by one of the bouncers out of the corner of his eye, so he turns his head and catches Mai's soft gaze with a smirk. "I'm just a man."

"What sort of woman does a gentleman like you prefer? _"_ She's rocking her hips again and all Aomine can do is pretend like he's into this. And by his own body's betrayal, it isn't that difficult.

"Someone like you," he answers with a breath. "You're just my type."

She giggles, soft like a wind chime in a summer breeze. "Is that so?"

"Mm, it is."

"So what are you looking here for, _master_? Perhaps your future wife?" She arches her back and Aomine watches her hair fall over her shoulders and cascade down her spine.

"Maybe. What are _you_ looking for here, Mai-chan? Perhaps a future husband?"

She adjusts her weight over his lap and Aomine _knows_ she can feel the hot line of his cock through his jeans and through her flimsy panties. "Maybe."

He's got to gain some control back, he needs to not be distracted so that he can pay attention to his surroundings so that he can search the crowd for Haizaki or any potential person that might know his whereabouts. Except the dark, crushed velvet cushioning in the booth feels as exotic as Mai's breath, and the music is just the right tempo that sets off the switch of adrenaline fueling into his veins like nitrous oxide and he's ready to buck his hips up and grind time into the motion.

"You can touch, if you want,"  Mai says, like she knows because it's on the verge of a supplication and not a suggestion. She's leading Aomine's eyes down to her chest with one of her hands, her slender fingers splaying across the smooth plane of her breast, taunting him into taking the bait.

"Isn't there a rule for that kind of thing?" asks Aomine, his pulse thrumming in tandem with the visceral drum and bass that echoes off the club walls. 

"There isn't if you're willing to pay." She's fingering the tassel now and pulling the corner of her bottom lip in with her teeth.

"How far can I go?"

"As far as you like," she says, leaning in closer as she grinds down on his clothed but clear erection. "If the price is right... _master._ "

Aomine tries but he knows he's already failed. It's why he gives in to temptation, starts with a shaky breath and proceeds to hook a thumb into the razor-thin strap of her underwear, sliding it along her flesh until he reaches the dip in her spine. She throws her head back like she's enjoying herself but Aomine won't buy into the illusion. Her skin is downy soft against the pads of his fingers and when she rolls her hips again it's in earnest as she ducks back in with a fire smouldering in her shadowed eyes.

"Touch me more," she whispers as she skims her fingertips along his jaw, her touch feather-light and her fingernails catch across his skin, drawing warm sensation into taut muscle. His blood is rushing to his head, his skin is hot like the lust in his veins. His thoughts are hazy, and just for a minute, he wants to forget everything and have release. Just _not care._ But he isn't here for himself. He's here for Kise.

_Kise._

And as much as he doesn't want to when he's got something else he can be looking at, instead he's picturing blond hair that would feel like spun silk between his fingertips and warm brown eyes with flecks of gold that sparkle when the light hits them right. The _real_ Kise, the one with the annoyingly incessant giggling even at the stupidest things, the one he shared his hazy summer days of leapfrog and climbing trees with. The Kise that whispered in his ear, " _Catch me if I fall, Aominecchi, okay?_ "

Aomine was supposed to catch him —  _should_ have caught him. But he just let Kise fall.

That's suddenly more than enough of a reason to get Aomine on the edge of clarity, enough that he's scrambling back up off the ledge and onto more stable ground. His eyes flicker from Mai's chest to her face and she still looks like she's getting off on riding his cock despite the layers of fabric between them and it's a good thing, Aomine thinks, to catch her when her guard is down.

"What if I wanted to take you home?" he drawls, careful not to sound too levelheaded.

"I don't come cheap," she breathes. "You want to make me your wife for the night, _master?"_

"Mm," Aomine feigns deliberation. "If the price is right. Who do I speak to?"

"My boss," answers Mai. She doesn't relent. If anything she's moving faster and Aomine is now completely unfazed as he surveys the crowd in the club that seems to have gotten busier during their exchange.

"Does your boss have a name? Is he the guy who runs the place or is there like a middleman or something?"

"You sure ask a lot of questions. Just relax and touch me. _Please._ "

"I just really like you, Mai-chan. You can make a lonely man like me very happy," Aomine supplies. She's leaving a wet and sticky trail of gloss up the side of his neck when he notices a man passing through the club with dark hair and silver framed glasses that reflect the neon pink and green piping around the stage. He's followed by an entourage of men; three larger, more buff males in the back. One man with dark, black hair and another with a silvery-purple mop flank him on either side. The way the crowd parts for him suggests that he's important, as do the bodyguards, but Aomine can tell — can _feel_ — even from this distance that the men are dangerous, their sinister aura exudes thick into the atmosphere and lingers nearly tangible in the air. Even Mai has stopped to glance over her shoulder at the commotion and Aomine can feel her limbs go rigid and the fine hairs on her skin bristle in fear.

Aomine already knows who they are before he asks the questions, now that he's gotten a better view of their faces as the group of men approach the VIP section, likely to check in on the girls and make sure the customers are behaving themselves.

"Is that your boss, Mai-chan?"

"Please take me home," she says quickly and her change in tone has Aomine snapping his head back to face her and the fear in her eyes is as genuine as a fawn caught in a luminescent pool of oncoming death. "I promise I'll do anything you want."

Everything is suddenly clear, that Mai is more than just a stripper at this club. "He's your pimp, isn't he?" Aomine asks as she slides off his lap and onto the cushions beside him.

Mai shakes her head frantically. "N-no, it's not like that. He was supposed to make me his wife... he told me he loved me but I don't want to do this anymore, I don't believe him. He doesn't even _touch_ me. He makes me have sex with all these men for money — how is that _love?_ But I can't leave — he'll _kill_ me."

"It's okay," he soothes. "How many more of you are there?"

"It's just me. I'm... I belong only to Imayoshi-sama. He tells me I'm his princess and that he loves me but he makes me do things — _awful_ things and when I don't listen —" She keeps looking over her shoulder, and Aomine can feel the fear emanating from her. When he looks out into the club, Imayoshi Shōichi — the club's owner and head of the _Kurokawa-kai_  — is making his way over to Aomine's booth.

Mai grabs Aomine's hand and places it over her chest. He can feel her heart thudding where his own is aching for a woman he barely knows but no human should have to endure this treatment. No human should be someone's involuntary sex slave under false pretences of love and marriage and happily ever afters.  "Please, _master,_  say you want to buy my freedom. If you have enough money, he might let me go."

"It's gonna be okay," Aomine reiterates quickly. He doesn't have much time to explain so he does his best to give her the hurried truth just as Imayoshi and his gang reach his booth. "I'm a cop on official business. Don't worry, you don't have to live this kind of life for a second longer."

"Mai-chan, you little plaything," Imayoshi calls out and instantly the calming calamity in his voice sends a crawling shiver up Aomine's spine that fleshes out under his skin. "I hope you're treating our guest well. Is she living up to all your expectations, sir?"

Aomine swallows thickly, and this is the first time in a long time that his nerves are sparking with anxiety and fear settles heavy in his gut. "How much?" he manages, trying out possible scenarios in his head and thinking of how to reach for his gun slotted in his shoulder holster before anyone else has a chance to draw on him.

"It depends on the kind of experience you're looking for," Imayoshi croons with a grin. "Do you want the wife experience? Perhaps the whore-off-a-street-corner experience? Or maybe you're just a lonely man who needs a companion for the night to keep you from jumping off the Rainbow Bridge."

Aomine rises from his seat. From this vantage, he stands taller than Imayoshi and his henchmen and the yakuza boss is forced to look up at him in sly secrecy.

"Nah," Imayoshi purrs. "You look like a man with a double life. Your suit says gentleman but your eyes say you're a predator. A panther waiting to pounce on their prey." He glances at Mai and his smirk widens, crooked and sour. "For a certain price, Mai-chan can be your little lamb. You can take her home and keep her locked away in your tiny gilded cage until you're ready to hunt her. _Use_ her for whatever your desires call for."

Aomine looks back at the woman who's know showing clear signs of abuse and emotional trauma and everything Aomine's come to know about women like this, is that the only way out of this kind of life is death.

So he feigns interest, relaxes his gait so that he's casual and approachable and prepared for negotiations. "As you can see," he says with all the arrogance he can muster. "Money ain't a problem." Mai looks up at him, her eyes wide and pleading, as he inches closer. "Just tell me how much for this..." He leans in, skims his fingers along the edge of her jaw. "Little lamb."

The second he makes the deal, Aomine is slapping cuffs on this piece of trash and dragging his ass down to the station, where hopefully he'll be able to find out more information on Haizaki. They _have_ to know each other.

Imayoshi nods approval. "Well... I like what I see. My associate here will fill you in on the details. Mai-chan, you can come with me and we'll get you ready."

"That's not necessary. I'll take the girl as is," Aomine barks, a little too hasty and nothing short of a command.

"Oh? An imperious tyrant than knows what he wants and isn't afraid to take it. Well well... You do know who I am, don't you sir? I say my girl comes with me, so if you want her you will wait patiently — like the _gentleman_ you are."

Aomine can feel his lips tug at a grin while his stomach churns with disgust. "Heh, yer right. Do as you please."

He doesn't break eye contact, but out of his peripheral, he can see Mai trembling, cowering further into the back of the booth without making much movement and calling attention to herself. The two that Imayoshi are with must be his underboss and clan leader. The three men behind them are likely foot soldiers. They're buff and brute and look like American linebackers, so Aomine knows these are the men that he will have to deal with. The man to Imayoshi's right is short with a lean build and his oil-slick hair does well to conceal the menace in the sharp hazel of his eyes.

The one to the left is taller than Imayoshi and his first lieutenant by a couple of inches, close to being on par with Aomine's height and probably similar builds. He can't see this man's eyes at all, can't see much of anything beyond the large pale green bubble of chewing gum that he keeps blowing, continuously covering his face.

Something doesn't feel right, he thinks as he watches Imayoshi beckon Mai. He's never done a deal like this, so he's got no idea how this sort of thing works. This isn't the average run of the mill prostitution ring, nor is Imayoshi the typical lowlife pimp. He's got a nasty side that Aomine was only able to catch a slight glimpse of, one he hides well from the general public that enter his club. He's the head of one of Tokyo's larger yakuza families, and the crowd is likely peppered with more members than what he sees here. Aomine won't be able to do anything unless he can get Imayoshi alone, but even his lieutenant would suffice for information. He's his second in command, there's not a doubt in Aomine's mind that the other man won't be able to tell him _something._

Imayoshi is still grinning, his eyes like sly slits of suspicion behind silver-framed glasses. _He's_ the one Aomine suspects leads a double life. He seems calm now, but that's what he wants everyone else to think. The only ones who would meet his wrath are the ones closest to him.  Aomine certainly believes that he tortures Mai and others when he doesn't get his way, or even when he's bored. Brute violence isn't a turn on for this man. Sadism is.

Mai brushes past Aomine, trailing her fingers along his arm as she steps down from the booth in her six-inch strappy gold stilettos. She passes the lieutenant on the left and there's a brief moment of eye contact and she mouths three words that Aomine will make out after he's had the chance to think about it — but it's something so completely unnoticeable that Aomine would have missed had he not been watching.

The right lieutenant turns back to Imayoshi and nods. "We'll see to it that everything is taken care of," he says and the smirk that curdles his lips is all too telling.

The events that transpire next Aomine will only remember later in bits and pieces. Everything happens so quickly that he has barely enough time to blink before he has to react. Except like in slow motion, the man on Imayoshi's right grins as he lifts his hand and snaps his fingers, just as the other man's giant gum bubble pops and despite the booming music in the club, both sounds are like a bullet piercing through glass.

The left lieutenant ducks in and throws the first punch. It comes as a surprise, so Aomine doesn't have a chance to move out of the way in time. The man's fist clips his jaw and it sends Aomine stumbling backwards into the booth until the edge of the seat catches the back of his knees and he sprawls out onto the cushions. He can see Imayoshi shoving Mai into one of the foot soldiers with a shaved head and dark tattoosetched into every inch of his flesh. He holds Mai with her arms behind her back and she struggles at first until Imayoshi turns to say something to her and then Aomine watches as she becomes completely pliant.

But he can't keep his eyes on her for long, there's the chewing gum freak looming over him, getting ready to throw the second punch when Aomine reaches over to the small table and grabs the first thing his fingers touch, which happens to be the bourbon glass. He tips the glass forward to get a better hold on it and then Aomine is bringing it forward and smashing it against the other's forehead. It breaks, slicing open Aomine's palm as the force knocks the other man back. He tries to grab hold of Aomine's blazer to drag him down but he misses, and the pain he must be feeling right now seems to have disoriented him because he's swaying like he's drunk and tipping backwards, his sneakers scuffing against the marble as he goes.

Aomine is more concerned for Mai's safety than his own and thinking too irrationally, he makes the mistake of reaching into his holster and drawing his gun before securing himself a position that isn't harmful or dangerous to the civilians, and creating a situation of mass hysteria.

"Boss, gun!" he hears one of the foot soldiers yell and it travels through the crowded club like a sonic sound wave and suddenly there's panic and shrill screaming ringing in Aomine's ears and too much commotion to pay attention.

"Deal with this, Hanamiya," Imayoshi shouts as he tries to weave his way through the frantic sea of people that are making their way out of the club. He's dragging Mai by the wrist and Aomine's about to lose sight of them when the gum chewing bastard grabs him by the collar and heaves him bodily down the stairs to the booth. There's only four of them, but they're made of cold slabs of marble and on the second stair, Aomine twists to try and regain his balance but loses his footing anyway. He lands at the bottom on his back with a jarring thud and he loses his grip on the gun on impact and it skitters across the dancefloor.

"You shoulda been lookin' over here," he hears the gum freak laugh.

Aomine's now staring up into the face of first lieutenant Hanamiya, after becoming temporarily dazed from hitting the sharp lip of the fourth stair. There's a dull pain throbbing across his shoulders from the impact and when he tries to get up, Hanamiya grins wicked as he lifts his foot and stomps on Aomine's chest, crushing him against the stair and instantly knocking the wind out of him. He chokes on a breath as the second lieutenant grabs at his ankles.

"Hey, Hara — did he think we wouldn't be able to tell? What an _idiot._ Help me drag this bastard to the back."

Aomine struggles to get free, kicking out his left leg and he manages to connect with the other guy's — Hara's — face. It's enough that it sends him staggering back and gives Aomine the chance to use the stairs as leverage to jump to his feet.

"Fuckin' bastard!"

"Argh _fuck!_ Hanamiya, get him!"

Without a second thought, Aomine throws his elbow out into Hanamiya's gut, and when the other doubles over, it creates an opening that is wide enough for Aomine to scrabble through. He can't see his gun on the dark floor and there are still people clearing out of the club obscuring his view so he searches for the woman instead.

He spots Imayoshi and Mai as he dodges around patron after patron to catch up. It isn't a far distance and when he's a few feet away, he stretches out an arm and calls out, "Mai! Grab my hand!" but when she turns it's with a smile that looks a whole lot like betrayal and a lot less like a solemn farewell.

The realisation that he's just been played rips through him like a shockwave of electric ice. She _knew_ — _they knew — 'he's a cop' —_ he should have fucking _known better._ It stops him short in his tracks but he can't stop for too long, because he can hear Hanamiya and Hara cursing behind him and a woman screaming, "They have guns! They have guns!"

The notion makes him turn to calculate the distance and Hanamiya is closer than Hara, whose face is broken and bloodied and he ain't chewing that fucking gum anymore. Hanamiya has a short-barrelled shotgun pointed at him, and Aomine has to take his eyes off the other man to look behind him for civilians that might get caught in the crossfire but Hanamiya doesn't wait for a clear shot.

"Look out!" he screams to no one in particular except no one can hear him over the noise inside the building.

The crack of the gunshot tears through Aomine's eardrums. The echo resounds throughout the club leaves a shrill ringing in his ears and instinct tells him to quickly dodge to the left.  He does so in time that he feels the sear of flaring heat score his cheek and the smell of burning flesh that follows. It's less than a second later that wet chunks and warmth splatter across his face and instantly he _knows_ someone was hit.

When Aomine opens his eyes, Mai is standing two feet in front of him with half of her head gone. There's blood oozing out what's left of her exposed brain, it's cascading down her peachy skin like her hair once did. Fragments of her skull with that same wavy brown hair still attached litter the dancefloor like jigsaw puzzle pieces.

He can see Imayoshi through the gaping hole in the back of Mai's head before her lithe body collapses to the floor and Aomine's not sure if it's the chilling grin the man wears, stretching from ear to ear, or if it's the macabre scene in front of him that causes the sharp, acidic burn of bile surge up his esophagus and nearly spill out his mouth. He's surprised to hear the cocking sound of the shotgun behind him over the screams and wails of on-lookers but he's got less than half a second to move before the next shot cuts through the air and this time Aomine knows Hanamiya won't miss.

He's willing his feet to move — _dammit, fucking move!_ but he remains stationary, fear as thick as sewer sludge sloshing around in his gut. He's never felt fear like this before; unarmed and unprotected without any backup and the only thing that's running through his head is that he isn't going to get out of here alive in time to save Kise from his fate — complete and utter _failure_ as a cop, as a friend, as —

"Here piggy, piggy!" Hanamiya's raucous laughter shreds through his thoughts and just as he hears the shot explode through space, there's another voice shouting over the sound.

"Aomine, get down!"

As Aomine breaks free of the invisible chains that seemed to have him tethered to one spot and drops to the floor, he sees Nijimura come flying through the mass of people still trying to escape. He grabs the lip of the bar stationed in the middle of the club and swings himself onto the wide piece of marble. He's got two guns drawn as he hits the bar top with both knees and slides along the surface as he open fires in Hanamiya and Hara's direction. The bullet from the shotgun misses Imayoshi by a thread and he watches as Imayoshi pulls a gun from his hip and whirls around to face Nijimura. Aomine calls out but the Nijimura doesn't hear him. By now there are other policemen filtering in through the exits and there's a sudden slew of gunfire ricocheting off the metal poles, shattering glass and splintering wood. Other members of the _Kurokawa-kai_ have appeared and are now firing at the officers; civilians and police and yakuza are all dropping to the floor screaming and writhing in pain or the life flickering out of their eyes.

Aomine gets to his feet, the throb of pain still present along his spine and he hears a loud shout behind him over the gunfire, a woman's bloodcurdling scream and Imayoshi shrieking, "Makoto!" He drops his weapon and Aomine watches him race to Hanamiya's side, which can only mean Nijimura managed to elude Imayoshi's gunfire and take out Hanamiya in the process.

Aomine doesn't waste time. He instead scurries over to retrieve Imayoshi's gun but he doesn't have the advantage for long. He's knocked forward by a strong force from behind like he's playing American football and he's just been tackled by the biggest man on the opposing team. The marble floor is slick with blood and grey matter, chunks of flesh blown apart by the wild spray of an array of different calibre bullets and it makes footing difficult, especially in these shoes. He lands hard on his stomach in a puddle of congealing blood and a thick arm wraps around his throat. 

"This is payback, _pig_ ," a voice hisses, hot against his neck. He recognises it as Hara's voice, dropping thick with disdain and hatred.

"Fuck you!" Aomine growls as he twists underneath the man. He manages to get an arm free, grabs a fistful of Hara's blood-matted hair and throws his head forward as he brings Hara's down. He can feel the cartilage of Hara's nose crush under his forehead, and the strangled cry the other emits comes with the downpour of blood, dirtying Aomine's face and seeping into his mouth as he struggles to regain proper functioning of his lungs. Searing pain whites out his vision and he's forced to let his hold on Hara go. The impact has rendered Hara useless, he appears dazed and in a lot of pain, so Aomine takes the opportunity to toss the man aside. It isn't an easy feat, the man weighs as much if not more than Aomine himself but the adrenaline surging through his veins feels like it'd be enough to give him the strength to lift ten cars.

Again he stumbles to get to his feet only in time to see an officer point a gun at his head.

"Freeze!" the officer shouts, clearly a rookie because he doesn't seem to know Aomine's face.

Aomine throws his hands up in the air. "I'm on the job," he says breathlessly. "I'm homicide's Sergeant Aomine Daiki — I'm going to reach for my badge, okay?"

The officer looks suspicious of him but nods anyway and allows Aomine to reach for his badge that, somehow through all the struggles, is still clipped to his belt. He shows the officer his badge and the man's face flickers red with the heat of embarrassment.

"Sergeant, I'm sorry I didn't know —"

"It's fine. Arrest that man," Aomine says pointing to Hara who's still and likely unconscious. The officer nods enthusiastically and holsters his gun. Aomine doesn't stick around, he's got to find Imayoshi.

The gunfire has died down, save for a few random shots here and there but the music is no longer playing and all Aomine hears are the shouts from officers and yakuza alike. It isn't hard to find Imayoshi, he's a few feet behind Aomine, flat on his stomach underneath Nijimura's knee, and he's is just wrapping cuffs around his wrists. Hanamiya lays beside them on his back, down but he doesn't look dead.

"Where's Haizaki?" Aomine roars, swinging his foot back and then driving it forward into Imayoshi's ribs. The other coughs and squirms under Nijimura's knee while he gasps for air.

"Go to hell," Imayoshi chokes. His glasses are bent and broken, and Aomine figures that must have happened during a scuffle with Nijimura.

Aomine kicks him again and this time Imayoshi cries out.

"Where's Haizaki?" he repeats. Nijimura stays silent. He doesn't try to stop Aomine from inflicting abuse on the man underneath him.

Imayoshi doesn't respond and Aomine can see his gaze flicker to Hanamiya on several instances, who lays there on the floor unmoving but conscious and bleeding out from two gunshot wounds to his abdomen and one to his shoulder.

"Ah, you got this guy good," Aomine praises. "How long do you think it'll take a bus to get here, Nijimura?"

Nijimura grins, his eyes flashing steel cold with recognition before answering. "They'll be too busy with the wounded that aren't pieces of trash. He'll probably die before they get here."

"Fuck you," Imayoshi sneers. "Fuck your disgusting and corrupted department."

Aomine crouches down in front of him and seizes a fistful of the other's hair, yanking his head up to eye level so that Aomine can look him in the face as he reaches over with his other hand and digs two of his fingers in one of Hanamiya's bullet holes. There's a guttural cry that rips through Hanamiya's throat as his body wrenches with the pain.

Imayoshi's beady brown eyes blow wide before he starts thrashing violently under Nijimura. "Don't you fucking touch him! I'll _skin_ you _alive_ , so help me, you —"

"Where's Haizaki Shōgo? I know he works for your garbage organisation," Aomine drawls coolly, his fingers still inside the slick warmth of Hanamiya's wound.

Imayoshi says nothing, just grunts frustrated cries of defeat as he savagely struggles to get free. Aomine lets his hold on Imayoshi's hair go in favour of sliding over to Hanamiya on one knee and digging his fingers deeper into his wound. The torture elicits a broken howl and again Hanamiya's body seizes in agony.

"I'm gonna ask you where that fuckin' bastard is and yer gonna tell me, ya got it, you little shit?" asks Aomine. This sudden jolt of excitement shoots up his spine and he's furious — _livid_ — but inflicting pain on this man who nearly killed him is thrilling and Aomine can just _feel_ the maniacal grin that stretches his lips.

Imayoshi tries to worm his way closer to Hanamiya but Nijimura's knee skids up his spine and pins him to the floor. "Don't you say a word, Makoto," he says. It's meant to be in the form of a threat, Aomine knows, there's far more trembling concern laced into Imayoshi's tone and it isn't for himself.

Hanamiya manages to prop himself up on his good elbow, enough that he's able to look Aomine in the eye. His own smirk is toxic, seeping right down into the marrow of Aomine's bones. There are ribbons of blood streaming from his mouth, staining the soft pink of his lips and Aomine doesn't have time to shield his face when Hanamiya spews blood and it mottles his already filth-layered cheeks.

"Don't insult me, _Senpai_ ," he laughs but it's broken and oxygen deprived. First names and nicknames run a little more personal than the typical boss and subordinate relationship, Aomine thinks. Hanamiya is someone _important_ to Imayoshi and he intends to exploit that.  Aomine rips his fingers from the wound and Hanamiya chokes on a holler as he shoves the bullet-riddled man to the floor.

"Do you think this is a fucking game?" Aomine spits. He hauls his arm back and swings, fist connecting with the edge of Hanamiya's jaw. His head snaps to the side and he laughs, laughs like he's taunting Aomine while Imayoshi snarls a slew of expletives regarding Aomine's mother and character.

"Tell me where that bastard Haizaki is!"

"That's enough Aomine," Nijimura cuts in. "We're not going to get anything out of these guys right now."

This time Aomine lands a blow to Hanamiya's cheek, and he's pretty sure he can hear the fissure splinter through the bone easily. He's only seeing a haze of red now, and Nijimura's voice seems like a faraway cry out of yesterday's past.

"Tell me!" He doesn't stop, not when he feels the bone of Hanamiya's cheek shatter under his knuckles, not when the other doesn't relent in his hysterical laughter or when Imayoshi is threatening to break every bone in Aomine's body and not when he feels the sloppy wet smack of fresh blood and marred flesh sop against his skin. It's only when Nijimura drags him off Hanamiya's body does Aomine click back into the present and realise what he's done.

Imayoshi's still screaming, feral and spittle foaming around his mouth like an enraged rabid animal. "I'll kill you! I'll kill you if you touch one more fuckin' hair on his fuckin' head! I'll kill your entire family, I swear! You hear me you piece of shit?!"

"Enough," Nijimura says calmly. "It's enough."

"Makoto — you shitty brat, stay awake. Hey — you fucking bastard, talk to me."

"Shut up... Senpai. You're so... noisy," wheezes Hanamiya and Imayoshi's choking laughter, stuttering at each take of breath like a stalled out car engine.

The paramedics arrive as Nijimura's pulling Aomine up to his feet and he's still a little adrenaline fueled. He's not paying attention when two officers drag Imayoshi away kicking and screaming nor when the paramedics clear Hanamiya for the ride back to the hospital after they managed to quell the profuse bleeding.

Aomine looks around, still disoriented and in a little bit of shock when he absorbs the bloodbath that fills the space. The dead men and women, officers and criminals lost their lives because of him. All this... All of this is his fault because of his stupid mistakes. He fucked up, he fucked up _so badly_ this time.

"You look like shit," Nijimura states as he steps over a dead man with thick black tattoos encircling his severed neck. Aomine just misses kicking his head.

"How'd you know I was here?" His mouth forms around a response delayed from his brain, he's still playing catch up, suffering from some sort of major disconnect from this reality and the next. Haizaki's still out there, and with every passing night of Kise's freedom is an opportunity Haizaki can seize to finally take Kise's life.

"I didn't, we were responding to calls that there were gunshots fired inside the club and the exits were blocked by yakuza. I don't even want to know what you were doing here since it's pretty fucking obvious. You're my partner, you know, but _fuck_ Aomine what were you thinking. You could have gotten yourself killed."

"Yeah."

"And the captain wants your ass nailed to a wall though, says you've made a huge fucking mess. Apparently, this was a federal case two years on the go and you fucked up big time. He's got internal affairs and the Tokyo Bureau breathing down his neck now, and the Bureau wants blood. _Your_ blood."

"Uh huh." Aomine's not paying attention, he's too busy wallowing through some heavy duty self-loathing. This will likely get him suspended. He knows. And no shield means no case, and no case means he can't catch Haizaki which means every minute of time wasted while he's sitting on his ass and twiddling his thumbs, Kise's life is in danger. Satsuki and Tetsu's lives are in danger. There's got to be a way he can get around this. It's not like he doesn't have faith in Nijimura and the department's capabilities, it's just... the only one that can do this is him.

"Gimme a ride to the station, wouldja?"

"Yeah," Nijimura says with a grimace. "No... problem.

Now that the adrenaline's worn off and Aomine no longer feels like Superman, he becomes aware of an intense sharp pain in his shoulder blade, stinging hot like it's infused with fire. He doesn't remember the wounds he's acquired and can't remember if he felt the hurt there before. There isn't much of anything his memory can recollect except hazy pieces of flashbacks, like a reel of film missing frames.

"Hey," he calls out. "Was I shot?" Aomine turns so Nijimura can inspect his back, and he knows the answer is probably yes because he can feel the back of his dress shirt clinging sticky to his skin and the wound pulsing painfully.

"Shit... Yeah. Looks like a small calibre. No exit wound. Gonna have to get the slug dug out of your shoulder before you get to the station."

"Fuck," Aomine mutters. Now his chances of keeping his badge have just gone from slim to none.

"And Aomine?"

"Yeah?"

"Promise me you'll wash your face off before we go out in public. You look fuckin' scary."

Aomine doesn't bother to hold back the bark of laughter that explodes from his throat.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has two parts, I should have the second out by the weekend. I just didn't want to make you guys wait that long for one, so I broke it up into two.

**XIII**

* * *

 

Kise isn't expecting the knock when it comes.

He's soaking in the tub when he hears it and doesn't bother to answer the first time. It's been a whole day since he's been alone in Kuroko and Momoi's apartment, and he hasn't slept at all since he's been here; too afraid to fall asleep and put Kuroko and Momoi and their unborn baby in danger; too afraid to fall asleep because of what he knows he'll wake up to. And truth be told it's left him a nervous wreck that jumps at his own shadow, that craves something a little stronger than alcohol to take the edge off, but he can't get his hands on any pharmaceuticals. It's a shame, really, but Kise finds the anxiety _isn't_ slipping away with each glass of wine he drinks. It won't take long to get past the point of not caring, he's already feeling a little hazy after three glasses on an empty stomach though the bath _is_ helping to clear the tension in his muscles and the steam helps soften the strain of his dry eyes.

So here is where he spends most of his time, where he sinks into the warm water and closes his eyes to the steam hanging thick in the air as he tries to let the apprehension and fear of the unknown bleed out but today it isn't working. Not especially now when from under the water and through the half-open bathroom door, he can hear the knocking sound again.

It's odd, Kise figures, that the police stationed outside the door would allow someone through, and besides Kuroko and Momoi, Kaori and Aomine are the only ones that know that he's here.

Assuming that it's probably Kaori coming to discuss the case with him, Kise unwillingly drags himself out of the comfort of the bathtub and dries himself off, throwing on a pair of Aomine's old basketball shorts and a well-worn jersey. It's not exactly his style and it's not to say he didn't wear these things for basketball practice in high school either, but he doesn't wear things like this now when he's got an image to uphold... despite the warm comfort he finds in these loose-hanging clothes. It's not like he has a choice, anyway.

He's towel drying his hair when he pads to the front door. The knocks are becoming louder and sharper now to the point where Kise is almost hesitant to look through the peephole at his visitor for fear of seeing someone or something unexpected.

When he does look through the peephole, who he sees on the other side of the door is _definitely_ someone unexpected.

" _Aominecchi_?" Kise murmurs in confusion as he unlocks the door and pulls it open. Aomine's got one hand in the air, mid-knock and his eyes are wider than Kise usually sees them.

"Kise!" He jerks and Kise's eyes fall to Aomine's other arm that's caught in a dark blue sling.

"Aominecchi, what happened?" gasps Kise and before he gets a response, Aomine grabs the two brown paper bags at his feet and pushes in through the door.

"You idiot," he growls once he's inside. "Do you have any idea how much you scared the shit out of me just now?"

Kise locks the door and turns on his heel. He doesn't remember Aomine being such an easy scare. "Well, who did you expect to answer the door? Michael Jordan?"

"I'm not talkin' about that, you moron," Aomine snaps as he kicks his shoes off at the genkan and bustles his way to the kitchen. Something rich and savoury wafts through the air of the apartment and like a curious animal, Kise follows his nose and Aomine into the kitchen, throwing the towel over one of the dining room chairs.

"You didn't answer the door. Do you know how long I was out there for? I've been knockin' for like fifteen minutes. I thought... maybe somethin' happened."

With Aomine facing him front on as Kise stands on the other side of the island in Momoi's kitchen, he can see the white square of a bandage on Aomine's cheek too, and with the fluorescent lighting overhead, he can see the deep purple-black shadows bruising under his eyes. Kise isn't sure if they're the result of a fight or lack of sleep or both.

"I didn't know you cared so much," Kise teases. "What happened to your face? And your arm?"

"I don't," Aomine answers as he pulls two cylindrical styrofoam containers from one of the bags. The aroma only gets stronger, a little pungent but just the savoury spice makes Kise's mouth water. "Got into a little bar fight, got shot at —"

Kise's stomach drops at the word, and he suddenly feels like he's going to be sick. "Shot?! _S_ _hit_ , Aominecchi! Are you okay?"

"Yeah I'm fine... but..." His eyes flicker up and catch Kise's gaze, these gorgeous pools of liquid sapphire that leave Kise near breathless every time.  His eyebrows knit together, his forehead wrinkles and he looks distraught, it's been a long time since Kise has seen his face.

"I was suspended. Not even desk duty.  They took my gun and badge and told me that I can't return until IAB clears me. "

"IAB?"

"Internal Affairs. Whenever there's a shooting involving a cop, they investigate.  They have to. And I — here." Aomine passes one of the containers to Kise along with a plastic spoon. "I figured with Satsuki gone,  you would starve, though guess it wouldn't be any different if she didn't leave. She's a horrible cook."

"She's not that bad," Kise murmurs as he opens the lid to the container and by now he's already figured out what's inside the bowls. "I can't believe you remembered," he says, unable to hide the smile that creeps onto his face. 

"Best onion gratin soup in the district," Aomine says and he's not looking at Kise this time, like remembering Kise's favourite food isn't a big deal, or getting shot or getting suspended from his job isn't a big deal. It makes Kise feel guilty once he allows the facts sink in, and what _could_ have happened.

"This is all my fault, Aominecchi. God, I'm so sorry."

"Don't be stupid," Aomine snaps though it lacks any actual irritation. "Just shut up and eat. You look a lot skinnier than I remember." Aomine opens his container and plops down on one of the bar stools he's pulled out from underneath the island.

"I am a model, you know. I have to keep trim," Kise jokes, following suit.

"Nah, you used to have muscle. Now ya just look like a twig. And I'm sure coke and booze ain't part of your healthy diet." He says it so casually like they're right back where they started when they were six years old, except Kise isn't sure if that was meant to hurt.  Having someone say these things out loud that don't approve of his lifestyle is a little embarrassing.

"You're right," Kise laughs nervously. "It's not... but it helps me cope." He pokes around the layer of cheese and bread on top of his soup with his spoon and frowns. Despite it being his favourite meal, he's suddenly lost his appetite.

Aomine snorts. "Cope with what? You're famous and popular and rich. Isn't that the lifestyle you wanted?"

"Maybe," Kise replies with a shrug. "What's in the other bag?"

"Booze," Aomine answers. "What do you mean maybe? After ten years you're having second thoughts?" He scoops a spoonful of the soup's contents into his mouth with his good hand and to Kise, his tone seems a little sour but maybe it's just who Aomine is now, maybe his job has jaded him a little.

"No... Probably a year after high school? It was crazy. I mean, I'd have to get up for a shoot at six, and that would take a couple of hours. And then maybe after that, I'd have an interview, or I'd have to update my portfolio. I'd have fittings and fashion shows or I'd have to travel to Milan or Paris, the after parties and meet and greets and —"

"Yeah, sounds _really_ rough," Aomine says like he's mocking Kise, going about his business like Kise isn't trying to be serious about their conversation.

"Don't patronize me, Aominecchi. You have no idea what it's like. The money and fame are addicting, and it's like you're trying to fit seventy-two hours into twenty-four. It's a _job_ just like yours."

Aomine halts his hand with the soup on the way to his mouth and scoffs. "Don't compare your frilly, pastry puff lifestyle to mine. I make a _difference._ Did you know I was only a detective for two years after I worked the beat? I'm the youngest sergeant the department has ever had. Not just the homicide division. In _all_ divisions of the 6-1-1."

"No, I didn't know —"

"Did you know that I've been shot twice in the line of duty? This makes three," he points out, lifting his sling-clad arm. "The first time I was shot I died actually, for a couple of minutes. Flat-lined in the bus on the way to the hospital —"

It's strange that Kise feels the burning sting of tears in his eyes and the lump that's hardened in his throat and this ache that twinges painfully in his chest. "Aominecchi — I didn't — I had no idea... Why didn't you _call_ me?"

Aomine shrugs. "I didn't need to. I had Satsuki and Tetsu. My parents. Nijimura and my captain and the rest of department. It wasn't important for you to know. Besides, haven't talked to you since high school. You ain't exactly the first one on my list to notify in case of an emergency."

Any appetite that Kise might have had is surely gone now, and this inexplicable guilt sits heavy in his chest. It hurts, makes it hard for him to breathe and the thought that he almost lost Aomine and probably would never have known about it — that he felt he didn't _need_ to tell him about it — makes him feel nauseous and broken, like reality just hit him at the speed of a bullet train and took him along for the ride. "I'm... I'm sorry —"

"I don't need your pity, Kise. I didn't come here to talk about feelings. I came here to feed you, so don't piss me off by not eating."

Kise sighs heavily, feeling like he should just apologise for everything now but obviously none of it bothers Aomine, whatever it was, he's gotten over it. So he falls silent and forces the food down his throat. It's warm but it tastes like cardboard and fry oil and lacks the joy and comfort Kise would normally feel when eating a good, hearty meal. He suspects it isn't the food that tastes bad, but the guilt and all the things he wants to say to Aomine that are sitting on his to tongue turning toxic by the second.

"Have you been drinking?" Aomine asks after minutes of stretched-too-long silence.

"Um no," Kise answers.

"You're not a good liar. Your skin is too pale to hide how glowing red it gets. That always happens when you drink."

Kise laugh feels a little unsettling. "I forget sometimes how much you know me."

"I don't know you," Aomine answers, cold and heavy like a slab of marble. It feels like a hit to his whole body and stings like a bath in acid. "I just remember who you used to be."

"I'm... I'm still the same person," Kise mutters, rising from his stool to peer into the other paper bag that sits atop of the island. There are two six packs of beer placed on top of each other and upon further inspection, after Kise pulls one out of the bag by the plastic holder, he finds that it's the same kind of beer that he and Aomine used to sneak from his father. It's cheap beer with a bad aftertaste and high alcohol content and Kise can remember drinking just two of these when he was sixteen and getting so tipsy that he and Aomine would just stretch out in the grass and watch the sky spin until the colours of the world blurred together. Until he or Aomine would giggle until they passed out and they'd wake up when the sky would be blanketed in twinkling bright stars and it got too cold to stay outside. "Koganei, huh?"

Aomine cocks an eyebrow and shrugs. "It's good beer."

"It tastes like shit and you know that," Kise laughs, suddenly feeling a lot lighter with the nostalgia.

Aomine twists a can from the plastic and cracks it open. Kise can hear the liquid fizz. "Are ya gonna complain about everything or are ya just gonna drink the fuckin' beer?  God, you're worse than Satsuki. Like a fuckin' diva."

On a much lighter note, Kise snorts as he sets the beer down and clears the table. He hasn't eaten much of his food but the alcohol is welcomed and a lot easier. "I'm not _that_ bad! It's just been a long time and I'm not —"

"Used to drinking beer that tastes like shit?" Aomine finishes while he slides off his stool and helps Kise clear away the garbage. He stops for a minute and Kise turns as Aomine's fingers dig into the worn stitching of the jersey at his shoulder. "Hey — are these _my_ clothes?" 

Kise's skin tingles where Aomine's fingers dragged through the fabric like he's been stung by an electric current. He dodges Aomine's hand and ducks behind his hair to hide the heat that flares across his cheeks and rides over the bridge of his nose from the accusation in the other's tone. "Momocchi gave them to me. It's not my first choice to wear these shabby rags."

"What? _What_? That's a limited edition All Stars jersey! It's not _shabby_ _,_ " Aomine retorts, looking at Kise like he's just said the most offensive thing in the world.

"Well if it's so important to you then here, take it back," snaps Kise, pulling at the hem of the jersey and pulling it over his head. The collar catches the damp of his hair and the air is a little cool on his bare chest despite the nearly non-existent coverage he was getting from the mesh material. He throws it at Aomine's unblinking face, who's slow to catch it with only the one hand and it ends up on the floor in a soft heap.

"You used to have better reflexes than that, old man," Kise taunts as he picks up the jersey.

"You're older than me, shouldn't you be using your walker to get around? And put your clothes back on, this ain't a photo shoot. I'm not payin' ya to get naked." Aomine smirks as he reaches into the back pocket of his jeans and pulls out a rectangular case. It's a DVD case, Kise recognises once Aomine hands it to him. "Here, make yourself useful and put this on."

Kise looks at the front of the case and he can't help the snort that he makes. " _Mothra_ _versus_ _Godzilla_ _—_ oh my god, Aominecchi, _why_?"

"It's a good movie —"

"No — no. It's _terrible,_ we used to sit there and make fun of the entire movie —"

"Exactly," Aomine says. "Now shut up and put it on while I clean this up."

Kise doesn't complain again, and when he makes his way over to the living room, it's with a huge grin as he throws the jersey on the back of the couch before setting up the DVD player. It feels like when they were kids and Kise would crash at Aomine's house on weekends and they'd stay up until their eyes burned watching movies or playing video games. And Aomine would usually pass out first, sprawled out across the futons at an angle Kise would have to wrap himself around in order to be comfortable. It was comforting, it was safe, it was  _home._

Maybe, with things back with how they used to be, Kise just might be able to sleep tonight.


	14. Chapter 14

**XIV**

* * *

  

Long after _Mothra vs. Godzilla_ is over and the DVD player replays the same start loop until it's become background noise, Aomine can say he's in much better spirits than when he first arrived at Tetsu and Satsuki's apartment. Of course, he's betting on the nine-plus beers he's had to have an effect on his mood but not as much as his company.

The room hasn't started to spin, but his skin has started to glow hot with alcohol-induced heat like he's standing in front of a raging bonfire in the middle of the summer. He's tempted to remove his shirt too, as the idiot bent over his knees on the floor across from him has, but Aomine feels like that'd be too much of a party.

He can't say he watched the movie as much as he watched the other. Kise's milky skin is very distracting, as are the individual knobs of vertebrae Aomine can count along the other's spine, which he's found himself frowning at for the majority of the night. He looks like a child, Aomine thinks, with his knees drawn up to his chest and his arms folded across them, fragile and innocent. It's like they're kids again and Kise is sitting too close to the television like _always_ wrapped up in himself and whatever program was on the screen at the time.

"Ah! I don't think I can drink anymore," exclaims Kise, picking up a piece of popcorn and whipping it at him.

Scattered around himself and Kise are puffed kernels of corn that they've been too lazy to pick up after their popcorn pitching match to see who could get the most kernels into the other's mouth. Aomine ultimately won, even playing with the handicap of his shitty arm out of its sling, and the loser was supposed to clean up the mess. Kise hasn't moved from his spot on the carpet.

"Satsuki is gonna have a fit if you get oil stains all over her furniture," Aomine says, snapping out of his reverie as the kernel hits the edge of his nose. It's better this way, to keep things light and mutual because he's just spent way too long imagining his tongue dragging up the curve of the other's spine and feeling the responsive shudder against his lips.

"I'll blame it on you," Kise says, resting his chin on arms folded across the tops of his knees that are drawn up to his chest. His eyes crinkle shut when he smiles then, sickly sweet like he's feigning innocence. "She's not going to believe an angel like me would do any of this as quick as she were to believe the _barbarian_ trashed her house."

"Bar— _barbarian_?" Aomine barks in mock disbelief. "D'ya want me to come over there and kick yer skinny little ass?"

"Ha! I'll be long gone before _your_ ass catches up with me, old man," he teases and Aomine can see the soft light of the lamp beside him reflect off the caramel of Kise's eyes when he opens them. He reaches for one of the embroidered throw pillows beside him and whips it in Kise's direction. Kise extends an arm, tips back and catches the pillow as it sails over his head with cat-like grace.

"Are you _trying_ to destroy Momocchi's house?!" he screeches, flinging the pillow back.

"It's Tetsu you've gotta worry about. Once you piss him off well —" Aomine has to catch the pillow that's thrown back at him, which is a little difficult to do with his non-dominant arm. He _could_ use his other arm, it's not like it's broken or anything and by now the alcohol has helped numb any pain Aomine had been feeling earlier — which is to say not much. But he doesn't want to rip the stitches either and bleed all over Tetsu's couch.

He doesn't bother to throw the pillow back, instead, he finds himself drifting off on a cloud-like high, too happy and too comfortable for this to feel safe because he knows falling into routine like this will eventually become dangerous to his mental health.

"Hey... Aominecchi."

When Aomine looks up from the patterns in the pillow, Kise is closer, kneeling on both knees at the edge of the sofa. Aomine stays sunken into the corner of the couch for the fear of not being able to restrain himself from reaching out and ghosting his fingertips across the heat trapped in Kise's cheeks. He's too close and Aomine's too warm, and there's too much fog clouding Aomine's judgement for him to not make any mistakes.

The other's head is tucked forward and Aomine can't see his expression at this angle, and Kise's pale hair curtains his eyes. He feels like the air in the room has changed, like the fun nostalgia has run its course and there's nothing but thick tension left; nothing but the elephant in the room.

"I tried calling you, you know. So many times. And when you didn't pick up, I sent texts and you'd never respond." Kise's voice is quiet, so low that Aomine can barely hear him over the sound coming from the television.

"I know," he answers. He's not sure what to say but he doesn't offer apology or reason. His chest is starting to get tight, his heart is starting to beat faster with the anticipation of getting this out in the open and over and done with. It's fine, Aomine supposes, if Kise never wants to speak to him again. His better judgement is subdued by the alcohol but deep down Aomine knows it's better that he doesn't have these feelings for Kise. They'll never be requited and with a clear conscience, he can focus on getting back on this case and solving it. Then he can say goodbye to Kise before it gets too late and save himself a whole lot of self-destruction.

"You never returned my emails, you changed your number... I tried for three years to get a hold of you but I couldn't. Even Kurokocchi and Momocchi changed their phone numbers and never responded to my emails... Why?" He's picking at the fibres in the carpet now, and Aomine would be distracted by the fluid grace of movement he can still see in Kise's back if it weren't for the anxiety twisting in his gut.

"I asked them to," Aomine answers. It's the simple response that gets Kise to bring his head up in a jerk. He assumed Kise would have been surprised, wider eyes and a more open mouth but instead he looks hurt, like an animal that's been kicked too many times when it's been down. It stabs through Aomine's chest and suddenly he feels like he can't breathe; the ache he feels is crushing, debilitating and it takes everything in him not to keel over in pain he can't even explain.

"Oh. I see," Kise murmurs. Aomine has to look away, he doesn't want to open old wounds, he should never have come here and decided that the past was actually a good thing.

Kise falls silent and so does he, as he lets everything be stirred up to stew in his thoughts despite not wanting to think about any of this. It's too late now, the feelings of old have returned; all the hurt and all the anger. He shouldn't even feel guilty, he did nothing wrong, yet here he is feeling like trash because Kise's feelings are hurt.

"How come?" Kise finally asks, and Aomine didn't think he'd actually have the nerve but apparently, the alcohol has made him loose-lipped and stupid.

"Do you really need to ask?" snaps Aomine and forget the pounding of adrenaline in his temples or the rush of blood between his ears. He won't go down this road again. He _can't_ _._

"We were best friends," supplies Kise and he's crawling closer, closing the distance between them but Aomine has nowhere to go unless he gets up to leave. At this point, he just might. "How could we just let it go like that?"

"It was easy," Aomine shrugs. "You went your way and I went mine." He has to look away, focus in on the clock on the wall across the room that ticks closer to midnight with every passing second. He better hurry, he thinks, because after midnight is when all the fun ends and everything turns back into shit. Only this story doesn't have a happily ever after.

There's a hand on his knee that he has to ignore despite the burning heat he can feel seeping through his jeans. "But Aominecchi —"

Aomine draws in a breath. "This was a mistake, I told ya I didn't come here to talk about feelings. I'm gonna go." He rises from his seat — or tries to — but Kise gets up quicker than he does and pins him back down to the couch. It shouldn't be this easy for Kise, but Aomine's reflexes are dulled by the alcohol and he's fallen victim to the electric gold rings that burn in the other's eyes. And maybe somewhere embedded in his booze-addled brain is the _want_ to give in to Kise.

"Stay," Kise says but it sounds more like a plea than a command. He's standing bent over Aomine now, with a hand pressed against his shoulder and another grips the back of the couch. "You have to tell me why it was so easy to throw me away. I never forgot about you."

"I had to," Aomine declares. "I acted like you were nothin' because that's what you became." If Kise is going to rip this bandage off, Aomine isn't going to let him do it slowly. "I told you I was in love with you and you fucked off, never spoke to me after that."

"What did you expect from me?" Kise doesn't pull back, keeps his palm digging in the muscle at Aomine's shoulder. "We were best friends and then you suddenly tell me you've been in love with me since the beginning of high school — when you were _drunk_ — and I'm not supposed to feel awkward after that?"

Adrenaline spreads like wildfire through Aomine's veins. He thought he had gotten over the anger but it's just been lying dormant in his chest. He drags a scoff, ready to spit fire the next time he opens his mouth. "I spent years wonderin' if I should tell you. Don't you think I knew what your reaction woulda been? I knew it was a gamble, yeah? And if you were such a friend — _my best friend_ — I shouldn't have come home from school a week later to find you in between some girl's legs on _my bed_ instead of talkin' out our problems like normal fuckin' people."

Kise blinks, Aomine can see the flicker of recollection in his pupils. "Okay — but that was because your parents were never home and my sisters —"

"What are you even saying? Don't you see the problem with that? You were a fuckin' _dick_. This is how it happened. I told you I was in love with you and you fucked some girl in my room right after — was that supposed to be your way of sendin' me some kinda message? 'Cause I got it loud and fuckin' clear. You took off that night and it was the last time I ever saw you. You didn't even show up for graduation. What was I supposed to think?"

"It wasn't like that! I... You know I had a girlfriend at the time —"

"She wasn't your girlfriend. You weren't even datin' someone when I told you, bastard."

"But the reason why I left — I got offered a centrefold piece for the April issue of _L'uomo_ _Vogue_ and the next day I had to leave for Italy!"

Aomine closes his eyes to the excuses, sighs like that will be enough to rid him of this bad blood. "And you didn't think you needed to tell your 'best friend' that you were leavin' right? Enough, it doesn't matter. I don't need to hear your excuses, Kise. Whatever happened between us is done, I'm over it. I ain't gonna sell you some fuckin' sob story about how hard it was for me to deal. Now move outta my way. I'm gonna go home."

"Aominecchi — listen to mine then. Please? Because it was hard for me —"

The laugh that rumbles in his chest curdles in his throat and leaves a sour taste on the back of his tongue. "Yeah," Aomine snorts. "I fuckin' bet you suffered so bad. Gimme a break, Kise. Get outta my way or I'm gonna hurt you."

Kise's knee comes up to sink into the cushion and ignites heat against Aomine's thigh. "It was," he insists. His weight dips into the couch as he brings up his other knee and traps Aomine in between his legs. The other's now straddling his hips, just barely sitting in his lap. Kise draws in a breath, slow like he's breathing Aomine in for the first time. "I needed to cope — with losing you and our friendship — Momocchi and Kurokocchi. I thought you all hated me, and that hurt the most. I couldn't eat, couldn't sleep. Snorted blow to stay awake and drank until I passed out because I'd be too strung out to function. Surrounded myself with shallow, selfish people that didn't care about me when I couldn't stand being alone anymore."

"Yeah? And all the girls — they were just collateral damage too? How about Haizaki?"

Kise stills for a minute, his eyes glowing like Aomine's words are the rods that stoke the fire in them. "Haizaki meant nothing to me, Aominecchi. He was a rival, not a lover —"

"He obviously didn't think so."

"Aominecchi — _please_ just listen," pleads Kise, gripping Aomine's shoulder. "No one was good enough after that, do you understand? I _tried_ to forget you; the drugs and pills and booze — women _or_ men — I did everything I could and nothing — _no_ _one_ was good enough.They... they weren't you." He sounds sincere and heartfelt, Aomine can even delude himself into thinking there might even be tears in the other's eyes. But then again, Kise has always been a great actor.

When Kise smiles, it looks forlorn and when he draws in a breath it sounds broken and wet. "You ruined me, Aominecchi. Everything I've become is because of you."

Aomine's own breath sticks to his ribs without anywhere to go. He can't open his mouth for the fear of what kind of sound would travel out, and he's not sure he'd hear it anyway over the hollow-hard thud of his heart against his chest. Kise is too close and staring now, and Aomine can feel a whole new wave of heat surge over him. "Don't... don't blame your shitty problems on me," he manages, and it's a bit of a miracle when all he can do is think about is tipping his head up so he can lick the salt off the other's cheeks.

"If you had just answered my phone calls... Honestly, you're really dumb, Aominecchi." He's pouting, and Aomine can't tear his eyes from the soft curve of the other's plush pink lips. "We waisted so much time."

"You're really drunk — and a stupid liar, Kise. Get off me." _This_ _isn't_ _real_ , he tells himself. It's like Kise is trying to fill a void and make amends but this is all wrong, this isn't real. It's the alcohol and the want to be protected, it's the fear of getting older and having no one left to love. It's a reach for light in Kise's dark world. And Aomine doesn't want to be that light if it isn't real.

It's getting harder to breathe, like all the oxygen in the air has been depleted, and it gets worse when the other settles in across Aomine's lap. Kise's hands slip behind Aomine's head, his slender fingers find purchase in the fine strands of hair at the nape of Aomine's neck and there's the shiver that ripples down Aomine's spine that wipes all thought and reason. It makes his lids shutter like there's too much blinding light in the room; it makes sense — the sun is bright and right in front of him and his breath searing Aomine's skin like solar flares.

"I'm not letting you go," Kise says. "Not again."

It's hard to form his mouth around sensible words when he just wants to crush it against Kise's. But he has to say something, because the responsible part of him still says this is all wrong, all lies, just something to pass the time. "What are you doing, you idiot?"

Kise's smile is amorous when he tips his head at an angle better suited for brushing his mouth against Aomine's, and Aomine can feel the sharp spark of static snap across his lips. His pulse is racing and for a minute Aomine feels the most terrified he's ever felt in his lifetime, including the time he thought he was going to die.

His lips are still touching Aomine's, they're pillowy soft and warm and nothing like his imagination because they're _real_ _._ "Something I shoulda done a long time ago," Kise whispers and that's all the other offers before sealing their mouths together.

It comes as a surprise even though Aomine was expecting it — _hoping_ for it. He doesn't try to stop it, despite the nagging pull at the back of his mind telling him to push Kise away. Instead, his hand is skittering up Kise's spine, the other's skin is like warm satin under his fingertips. He huffs protest but doesn't act on it. He shouldn't do this either, but he opens his mouth to Kise's tongue when it sweeps along the seam of his lips. The pressure in his chest is giving way to something hotter, something that makes his breath come faster and sets fire to his blood. When the need to breathe overrides the aching desire to keep Kise's mouth locked on his own, Aomine has to gasp a breath like he's just breached the surface after drowning.

"Kise," he blurts and he means to say _we_ _should_ _stop_ _,_ but Kise is kissing along the edge of his jaw and Aomine can feel the hard line of the other's cock against his stomach when Kise presses himself even further into Aomine's body to scrape his teeth down the side of his neck. Electricity shudders through his spine and sparks the burn of the other's name across his tongue. " _K_ _ise._ " It's no use trying to convince himself or Kise this is wrong anymore, Aomine's hands are sliding up the other's thighs without conscious effort and his thoughts keep shimmering in and out like a camera lens trying to catch focus. It goes hazy for a minute when Kise rocks his hips forward, rolls against the flushed shape of his own cock moulded against the confines of his jeans.

"Mm," Kise hums, breathes hot against his neck. "Take me to bed, Aominecchi."

The hairs on the back of his neck bristle, his stomach swoops wildly in response to the request. "Yeah," he gulps, distracted by the overcast in Kise's eyes. "Okay."

Kise slips off his lap and when Aomine gets to his feet, the other's hands shoot for the hem of his t-shirt. He allows Kise to pull the shirt over his head, too preoccupied with the haze of this dream-like reality that's clinging to his mind. Once Kise has tossed the shirt to the floor, he doesn't waste time grabbing onto the waistband of Aomine's jeans and tugging him close. Aomine is pliant in the jerk forward, though his knee hits the edge of the coffee table, causing the precarious tip of a few beer bottles and the spill of the remaining popcorn onto the carpet.

"Shit," Aomine murmurs but Kise's mouth is already on his and he conveniently forgets about being careful. He leads them towards the bedroom and it's not an elegant motion at all; they're stumbling down the hallway, unable to put more than an inch of space between them. He can't keep his hands out of the champagne strands on Kise's head, fingers grazing against the other's scalp when he drags at the roots. Kise doesn't keep his hands to himself either, instead, he's working the buckle on Aomine's belt and then threading the leather strap through once he's gotten it opened. He works the button and zipper next, but the hallway is dark and Kise's shoulder hits the corner of a picture frame, and it shatters when it hits the floor.

"Shit," Kise gasps and Aomine thinks he should stop and ask if the other's alright, maybe clean up the mess, but the bedroom is just a couple feet away and Kise's hand is already down his pants and though Aomine should be more concerned with ruining things in Tetsu's house, the other's fingers stroking up his achingly hard cock is too much of a thought-curbing commotion to ignore.

Kise crashes through the bedroom door first, with Aomine's hand still tangled in his hair and the other hooked onto the elastic waist of Kise's shorts. The next time they kiss, it's with such little finesse that their teeth clack painfully together, but neither Aomine nor Kise stop to care. Despite the alcohol Aomine knows is there, he can taste buttery sugar on the back of Kise's tongue but he gives it up for the taste of the other's skin. Aomine tugs at Kise's hair and tips in to mouth the expanse of his collarbone, lick a hard stripe up the taut curve of the other's neck. Kise's skin tastes just as saccharine. There's no pain in his shoulder when Kise digs his nails into the flesh there, though Aomine knows it's the alcohol and adrenaline acting as an inhibitor. He doesn't care about any of that, it's an evanescent thought in the back of his mind when Kise's knees catch the edge of the mattress and he falls back like he's an angel descending from the heavens and Aomine doesn't think he remembers how to breathe on his own, he's been living off borrowed air all this time. He feels like this is out of his control, can feel his sensibility slipping through his fingertips the way his cock slips from Kise's.

Aomine doesn't think to follow, not yet anyway. He wants to take a minute to admire Kise before this is all over. It's dark in the room with only the light of the moon streaming in through the sheers but Aomine can still see that there's heat riding high in the other's cheeks, his blond hair tangled and pushed off his face and his eyes look like drops of amber resin behind glass showcases when the light of the moon hits them right. He looks so fragile surrounded by the soft of the billowy comforter but Aomine knows he's not that breakable, as he knows Kise seems so full of innocence but instead he's tainted in sin. It's like he's looking at two people that share the same body and Aomine decides he's never wanted to love and destroy something so much at once.

Kise doesn't waste time with epiphanies or stop for comprehension, and if he had, he doesn't say. He slides the shorts off his hips and kicks them to the floor. There's no turning back now, not that Aomine wants to. He divests himself of his jeans just as quickly, figuring they've already wasted more than enough time between them. His nerves are snapping with each anxious tremble when Kise moves up the bed in invitation, and he follows. The other is already reaching for him, tipping his chin up for another kiss. There's skin on skin now, and Aomine doesn't remember everything being this hot or the room spinning this much. He does recall the burn of Kise's tongue on his skin when the other licks against it, but Aomine can't seem to get a grip on reality long enough to function properly. He should be doing something here, but the numb tingling in his lips from the friction is distracting and Kise has a hand wrapped around both their cocks, stroking out his senses. He feels like everything is too much and all at once and he's not sure if the rush of vertigo is coming from the alcohol or their pace but things just need to _slow down_ long enough for him to think for a minute.

"Wait," he growls and that's all he can spit out because any more would be an embarrassment. Kise stalls with his hand mid-stroke and teeth sunken into Aomine's shoulder. He licks and kisses over the marked skin like a feline. The other reaches for Aomine's face and Kise's hand feels like fire branding him when it slides across his cheek and around his neck.

"Is everything okay?" Kise asks, catching Aomine's gaze through long-curtained lashes. He looks like something out of a porn magazine with rose blush brushed across his cheeks and plush lips pursed prepared for pressure; flawless porcelain skin and bewitching brown eyes with the ability to compel even the strongest willed to do his bidding. It leaves Aomine nearly breathless, like the luxury of having such a gorgeous creature underneath him is too overwhelming of a reality for him to grasp. But it isn't that, Aomine thinks. It's just because it's _Kise_.

"Aominecchi?"

Once he's had a chance to collect himself, took a few seconds to blink away the turmoil inside his head, Aomine regains some semblance of clarity and control. He's breathing steadily now, the blood in his veins still pulsing quick but with anticipation rather than anxiety and he remembers, as he reaches over Kise to the bedside table, there are lube and condoms he had kept in the drawer back when Satsuki demanded he live with them while he recuperated after he was shot.

"Yeah," he finally says while pulling out the drawer and retrieving its contents. Kise's hand sliding down his chest is distracting, but he's almost par with a level head, dexterous and focused and determined. "Yeah, everything's fine."

"It's been a while, huh," Kise asks without condescension but he doesn't have to, the smile on his face reads smug like he's just won something.

"Shut up," Aomine snaps. It lacks any actual bite that he otherwise would have had it been any other situation. It doesn't make him look any less guilty though, but so what if it's been a while, so what if it's just been him for a very long time. He doesn't need to seek comfort in anything but the palm of his hand and a gravure magazine — or the occasional blond haired, brown eyed apparition — to get off, but of course, he doesn't say this out loud.

"It's okay — it's... it's my first time doing this," Kise announces and Aomine stops short in between Kise's legs and lets out a rush of breath like he's just been delivered a forceful blow to his gut, knocked to his knees and left reeling. He can feel the control slipping away again and simple motor skills and speech suddenly fail him.

"Kise... you —" Aomine can't finish his sentence, the words are caught in his throat. There's an ache throbbing in his chest, way worse than the shattering pain of the bullet that once tore through there. "I thought —"

"I told you," Kise says, the shape of his smiling shifting into something softer and the other's hand ghosts up Aomine's chest to cup his cheek in a gesture that feels too affectionate for circumstance. "They weren't you."

Aomine can feel the air inside his lungs perpetually expanding until the pressure causes his chest to burst like a balloon and his ribs crack and tear through his sides. He can't handle it, it's too much and too painful and it just freezes him in place, like he's forgotten how to move.

Kise hasn't, Aomine realises, when the other props himself up on elbows to mesh their mouths together. It's different this time, the friction at his lips still burns bright with sensation but he melds into the kiss without reservation, pushes back with more passion and more fervour because this time it feels _right —_ like it's some sort of _concession_ and not a mistake made by two lonely men in a drunken stupor. The warmth of Kise is real, like rays of sunlight seeping through his skin until his whole body is tingling warm and radiant.

"I want you, Aominecchi," Kise whines against his lips, pressing himself impossibly closer to the contour of Aomine's body. "Just you."

There's a sound that tears through Aomine's throat, like a feral animal's growl and he rocks back on his heels with the bottle of lube still clenched in his fist, his skin blistering hot as if he were dangerously close to the surface of the sun.

"You have to tell me if I hurt you," he grates, not meaning to sound so harsh but he's fighting this losing battle with himself to keep control.

"You won't," Kise assures, legs splaying wider in invitation. "Nothing hurts when I'm with you."

He doesn't know what to do with this feeling, it's always been easier to remain resentful and bitter and love from a distance but Aomine never expected any of this, he had let Kise go a long time ago — and he thought he had until the other had fallen back into his life bent and broken and barely a shred of dignity to call his own. 

"Stop talking," he says finally, kissing inside of Kise's knee. "It's distracting."

Kise lets out a breathless giggle as Aomine pops the cap and pours the cool liquid onto his fingers. He isn't meticulous or graceful when he tosses the bottle somewhere on the bed and he begins to work over Kise's entrance. He doesn't waste any more time with teasing or saccharine words, just gets down to the task because the other's cock throbbing for attention and Aomine's had enough of being patient. Aomine watches Kise's expression shift as he guides a finger in, slow so that he can see the flutter of Kise's lashes over gold eyes and the shape of the other's mouth fall open like he's breathing for the first time.

Kise is hot inside, and Aomine keeps pushing until he can feel the velvety soft walls at his fingertip. He brushes against the surface and watches Kise's eyes as they close to the ceaseless sensation sliding in and out of him.

When Kise is moaning rather than hissing, when Aomine feels the other's muscles relax with relief instead of tensing with uncertainty, he draws out his finger and Kise's cock jumps with the motion. It makes Aomine grin, makes him line up a second finger alongside the first to thrust forward and watch the replay of movement. The other's body jerks and Aomine can feel the shudder that ripples through Kise's body around his fingers as he crooks them and Kise groans, long and hot like the sound scorched his throat on the way out. The sound drives a shiver down Aomine's spine and he can feel the blood thrum painfully in his cock. It's too soon, though, he can feel the slick stretch of Kise's entrance slowly giving way, can feel the other's limbs go lax with pleasure but he's not quite ready.

Aomine works his fingers deeper, scrapes along the spot that makes Kise groan, " _God_ _,_ _Aominecchi_ _,_ " drawn out and strained. He hasn't touched his cock yet. It's flushed hot and leaking and Aomine resists the urge to dip in and wrap his mouth around it because it seems like Kise enjoys the torture.

When Aomine gets Kise to the point that he's wailing; arching high off the bed and rocking against Aomine's fingers, he decides he's finally had enough. It isn't that he doesn't enjoy Kise writhing at the touch of just his fingers or that he doesn't enjoy the almost-pained expression of the other's golden brows drawn together, bottom lip clenched between pearly white teeth. It's just that Aomine is not patient enough to wait, he's too lazy to put this much effort into getting Kise to squirm underneath him. He much rather the end result, now that he _has_ Kise right where he wants him. There's love and affection there, but what drives him is the sliver of revenge. Breaking Kise just a little by completely shattering him to pieces.

So Aomine doesn't wait any longer. He slips his fingers free of Kise and Kise appears to hazy to complain right away. Aomine snatches the foil square off the bed and brings it to his mouth, tearing through the wrapper with little caution. Kise is coming down now, gasping like he hasn't breathed the air this entire time as Aomine rolls the condom over his cock. He shudders, eyes flickering out of focus when his hand skims slick along the length his cock, but it's not the right touch Aomine desires it's the lethal heat of the other.

"Shit, Aominecchi," groans Kise. " _Shit_ , I want you."

Aomine huffs a laugh as he knocks Kise's knees further apart, spreads him wide and lewd and leaves him exposed like the epitome of tangible lechery. "You want me to fuck you?" he asks, with no conscious effort to the silk-smooth drawl that wraps around his voice.

Kise skims his fingers down his length and stops to knead his balls while he holds Aomine's gaze, his eyes now smouldering coals of black. He drags a finger down the crease of his ass, arches so he can reach down and slip a finger inside himself like a filthy whore. "Yes... right here."

Aomine watches this debauched display with amusement, strokes himself thick over latex for a bit while Kise fingers himself but then he's grabbing at Kise's hip, dragging him down the bed to close the already minute distance between them. He brushes the tip of his cock against Kise's entrance, watches as the other's throat bobs on an involuntary gulp. "Tell me."

"I want your cock so fucking bad," Kise whines, high-pitched and breathless like he's desperate for oxygen rather than dick. "I want you to fuck me, Aominecchi."

Aomine pushes in slow, watches as Kise holds breath and his eyes close to the shuddering sensation Aomine can feel in the other's legs. Aomine goes still, gives the other time to adjust but Kise is just as impatient.

"Don't stop," he says. "More, keep going."

"Where are your manners, Kise?" croons Aomine, this sudden shift in control putting his mind at ease and spiking dangerous levels of adrenaline into his blood. It's exhilarating, the thrill is making his heart race and if Aomine could get any harder, now would be the time.

" _Please_ ," groans Kise, provocative in the way he tries to push against Aomine's cock as if Aomine isn't moving fast enough.

Aomine can feel the smugness that tugs at his mouth when he slides his hands up Kise's thighs to brace himself as he sinks deeper into Kise. "Greedy little slut, aren't you?"

"Maybe," says Kise with a sweep of his tongue across his bottom lip like the sultry drag of his tone isn't convincing enough. Aomine huffs a laugh as he slips out, attentive to the way the other whimpers when he's empty. This time Aomine grips under Kise's knees, his fingertips bound to leave starbursts of black and blue in the morning, and snaps his hips into a thrust that makes the other choke on a gasp, his eyes startling open as his body jerks in response.

"You like that?" asks Aomine, repeating the motion before the other has a chance to respond. Kise jerks as if each thrust delivers a sharp electrical current that snaps up his spine and fists the bed sheets like they're the only things that will keep him grounded.

"Mm, yeah I like that. Feels good," groans Kise, and Aomine can hear the smack of the other's tongue stick to the roof of his parched mouth. "Harder, Aominecchi."

" _Harder?_ " repeats Aomine, grasping the sharp edges of Kise's hips as he slams into the other.

" _Fuck_ _!_ " Kise shouts, his lips wet and swollen from biting them. Aomine wants to make them worse, he thinks when he leans forward to kiss them. He kneads Kise's bottom lip in between his teeth, so they're slightly bruised and broken. He snaps forward again and when Kise cries out, drags stinging claw-marks into his back and chest, Aomine can't help but smirk, lean in and put more pressure on the other's thighs so he tastes the salt collected in the dip of his collarbone. He thrusts in again, and this time Kise makes a different sound, something of a higher octave that makes Aomine purr, "There. Right here, huh?"

Kise can barely nod and Aomine keeps on moving until the other is begging, "I wanna come," in between shallow and ragged breaths.

"No," Aomine says as he pulls back to drive into Kise again. His thoughts are swimming and his vision blurry, he knows it's only a matter of time before the fire burning under his skin causes him to combust and he wants to do it with Kise, but the pleasure-tortured look on Kise's face when he's denied is far more rewarding than release at the moment. "You can come when I tell you to."

"Nn," Kise groans, digging the blunt edges of his nails into angry crescent welts on the ridge of Aomine's shoulders. "Let me touch myself," he pleads, broken and sobbing.

Aomine's stamina is running thin anyways, the room is like a fucking sauna and he can feel the beads of sweat roll down his back with each thrust, can feel Kise's skin is slick and sticky too and the sounds the other's making are dry and hoarse like he's been breathing fire rather than air. But Aomine also feels weightless, like the entire room is undefined space and it's just the two of them cast in the silver light of the moon. It catches the sheen of Kise's skin, makes it sparkle crystalline radiant and for a minute Aomine is starstruck, too blinded by the other's brightness to see clearly or to think clearly, as every sound drops out of range and he's left with just the deafening silence and the twinge of heat coiling tight within his gut.

"Do it then," Aomine concedes. "Touch yourself." His own movements are becoming erratic now as Kise worms an arm between their sweat-slick bodies, he can't be bothered with keeping up with holding out, he doesn't have the patience. Kise's knuckles brush against Aomine's stomach with every stroke, sensation sparking up his spine and skittering across his skin. He knows for certain he isn't going to last much longer.

"Aominecchi — tell me again," Kise mumbles in between gasps. His words are slurring like he's having difficulty staying focused on stringing a single sentence together like his mind has begun to detach from reality. "Tell me again — what you said —"

"I love you, Ryōta," he says suddenly and Aomine doesn't even realise what he's said until it spills past his lips, natural like the words have always belonged stamped on his tongue. It's what he said to Kise the night he told the other how he felt when they were eighteen and drunk and one week before they graduated. Aomine had thought if he told Kise how he really felt, he wouldn't leave.  

" _Shit,_ " Kise cries, ripping Aomine from reverie, as he grabs a handful of Aomine's hair and tugs, scraping his nails against Aomine's scalp. He can feel Kise tense and shudder underneath him and the quiver in the other's thighs right after. There's the warm expulsion of release against his chest and the clenching tightness around his cock as he rides Kise out through his orgasm. It's getting harder to focus on anything now, except through all the loud and laboured breathing he can hear Kise saying something but it translates to nothing except static as Aomine's vision wipes white with pleasure and a wave of euphoria tremors down his spine, fleshes tranquility out into his veins as he pulses hot inside of Kise.

" _Fuck_ , _Kise_."

He feels heavy but weightless all at the same time and he blanks out, unable to tell space or time and he really isn't sure how long he's out for, and it takes him a while to come together and lock away the high that has him grinning against his own volition. Kise is still breathing heavily underneath him, and he drags a hand down Aomine's sweat-slippery back. The salt stings the scratches on his back and the tightness around his bullet wound is gone, which means he probably popped a stitch or two. In the end, every bit was worth it, Aomine thinks as he kisses the corner of Kise's jaw and eases out of him, even if Kise changes his mind in the morning.

He's too exhausted to move but he slides off the condom, ties a knot in the used latex and tosses it on the floor. He catches Kise frowning at him and watches as the other tries to move underneath the covers but his limbs are weak and trembling like a newborn calf standing for the first time and even the simple motion seems too much for Kise. 

"Why are you making that face?" Aomine asks as he lifts a leaden arm to hold the blankets open for Kise to slip under. He moves slow, but that's okay, Aomine's admiring the mess he's made of the other.

"You're disgusting," Kise says but he's glowing rose like a garden lantern and Aomine can see the hint of a smile curling his lips. "At least throw that in the garbage."

"Nah," Aomine sighs as he flops down next to Kise, his matted hair catching the cool downy pillow. "I'll clean it up tomorrow."

"There's a lot of mess we have to clean up tomorrow," Kise says through a yawn, settling in so that his shoulder is tucked under Aomine's chin. It's still sweltering in the room but here's hoping that with the air-conditioned chill in the air and his damp body, Aomine will be able to cool down to be comfortable enough to remain sleeping through the night. Though he's pretty sure with the night he's just had and Kise by his side, it really shouldn't be a problem.

"Yeah, yeah. We'll do it tomorrow. Now are ya finally going to get some sleep?" asks Aomine, draping a leg across the other's and an arm over Kise's sticky stomach. They'll have to clean themselves up before doing anything, he thinks, shutting his eyes to the rhythmic rise and fall of the other's chest.

Kise disturbs the peace, shifting underneath Aomine's leg and arm and bumping his chin with the bony edge of his shoulder. His teeth clack together and he hisses, ready to kick Kise out of the bed already.  

"Idiot," Aomine grates. "Will you stop squirmin' around so much?" When Kise doesn't respond, Aomine opens up his eyes to find Kise's own staring back at him, his eyes like wide limpid pools of amber.

"Are you going to leave?" he asks and Aomine doesn't miss the unsettling waver in Kise's voice. 

"No," he responds, tipping his chin at an angle better suited for him to slot their mouths together in a slow and lazy kiss that Sunday mornings ought to be made of. "I'm not the one with the habit of runnin' away. "

Kise huffs a laugh of relief and moves closer, tucking himself into Aomine's body. For as tall as he is, he fits under Aomine's chin and in between his arms perfectly, and their legs are tangled together with Kise's cold toes brushing against the top of Aomine's feet. This feels like the future, it feels like home and before Aomine closes his eyes he remembers that Kise had said something before he had slipped into his euphoric coma.

"Hey Kise — what did you say to me earlier? When... when I said _'I love you'_?"

"Mm," Kise murmurs, his voice already heavy with sleep. "I said, _'I love you too, Aominecchi'_ — Daiki — I love you too."

Aomine can feel his heart skip to a stall and his lungs finally implode under the pressure that gives way a rush of bated breath, like he's held it in for a lifetime waiting to hear those four words. 


	15. Chapter 15

**XV**

* * *

 

The symphony of birds chirping outside the window like spring anew is what first rouses Kise out of slumber. Before he fully wakes, there's a sharp throbbing at his temples that fights to drag him back to drag him back under but the pain is too much of a nuisance to sleep off. He's hot but not entirely uncomfortable, and the air is thick with the smell of sweat, stale beer and sex. It causes his nose to wrinkle in disgust and with a long groan, he opens his eyes and a hangover-haze still curtains his vision. The room is painfully bright and he has to blink himself into focus a few times before he becomes aware of his surroundings.

It's not that he's forgotten about last night, but Aomine's features come clear into view and it startles him. If Kise really had to think about it, he wasn't certain that Aomine would have stayed — or that the other would even still be alive once he had opened his eyes in the morning.

Granted there's no bloodshed that he can see but the reality of the idea rots his brain and seeps through his thoughts like a toxin. He doesn't want to wake Aomine if he can help it, but the dread that coils in his stomach makes him untuck his hand from underneath his chin and splay his fingers across Aomine's chest in search of a heartbeat. The first good sign is that he's still warm and then Kise can feel the serene rhythm of the other's heart underneath his fingertips. It makes him sigh relief, and now he can let the blur of memory take him through last night and smile easy because everything seems like it's going to be alright.

Kise watches Aomine sleep for a while, unmoving with his palm still pressed to the other's chest. He likes that the haggard edge of his life has no place on Aomine's face now, all hard lines are smoothed out and soft to match the wisps of breath that float off his parted lips. The ever-present crease in his brow made by his perpetual scowl isn't visible and the light glitters off his hair like the sun sparkles off an ocean. The sharp plane of his nose is surprisingly straight and the curve of his open mouth is supple and soft and inviting. Kise draws in a breath, too tempted to dip in and kiss him while he sleeps and instead lets his hands catch the way the sun warms the dusted gold of the other's skin.

Kise slides his fingers up Aomine's chest and underneath them, he feels a change in the texture. Obscurely round in diameter and un-level with the smoothness of skin, the patch feels a little rougher, puckered and wounded and when Kise smooths over it, his fingertips catch another scar just above the first one. They're both extremely close to Aomine's heart and it deeply disturbs him that he never noticed them last night. It rattles him, even more, to know that these scars are wounds made by bullets tearing through Aomine's chest with the intent to kill. And Kise has never seen something like that up close, but thousands of movie and television references paint a very horrifying picture of bullets moving too fast for the naked eye to see, too fast for Aomine to dodge out of the way before the lead or shrapnel slam into his chest and propel the other backward, causing him to stumble over his feet and inelegantly hit the hard ground with such force that the wind is knocked from his lungs. His eyes are wide and round with surprise, bright rings of electric cobalt, as his own weapon flies from his hand, leaving him unarmed and dangerously vulnerable. There's blood surging from the wound and Aomine's grasping his chest, desperate to apply pressure to stop the bleeding but he can't do it himself. Instead, he lays there as he bleeds out, and he doesn't cry for help. He looks like he's at peace with himself, like dying this young is something he's accepted long ago, like there's nothing he regrets.

There's a loud hiss and jerk that brings Kise back to reality, followed by a disgruntled and gravelly thick, "What the _hell_ , Kise?!" and when Kise blinks himself back into the present he realises he's got his nails digging into Aomine's flesh, marking crescent curves over silky scar tissue. He snaps his hand back like he's been burned and gasps terror like he's just seen a ghost.

"Aominecchi — oh my god, I'm so sorry!" Kise exclaims, slapping his hand over his mouth as he puts as much distance between them as the constricting comforter allows. Aomine's hand slides over the wounds, both new and old, and Kise can see the pensive draw of his brow again, his mouth pulling into a frown and the usual scowl Aomine wears has returned.

"What the hell?" he repeats, voice still raw with sleep.

"I'm... I'm sorry — I was... I was having a nightmare?" Kise says, and he's asking the question more to himself because he isn't sure what to call the vivid imagery that's halted in the foreground of his mind.

Aomine's face softens like he understands without Kise having to go into detail, but Kise suspects they're not thinking about the same thing. The other reaches out, closes a hand at Kise's bare hip and drags him back in. "C'mere," Aomine says, closing his eyes and burying his nose into Kise's hair. Kise hears him draw in a breath, can feel the warm rustle against his scalp. "Good morning."

"Sorry I hurt you — sorry I woke you up, too," Kise murmurs into Aomine's chest.

"Shut up," Aomine grates. "Stop apologising."

He presses himself closer, steals the other's heat and heaves a sigh. Kise's chest feels clouded like the cobwebs curtained over his thoughts, he hopes what he's doing is the right thing — that this isn't something he's doing out of fear and loneliness. He thinks he's in actual love with Aomine but how does he know what that's supposed to feel like when he's never experienced it before. He's been too busy caring about himself to care about someone else, and sure, he spent a lot of time stressing over Aomine's confession and mourning the loss of their friendship but he's never known if those feelings were just that or something more.

"Sorry," Kise says as Aomine's thumb slides down the length of his spine, sparking off a succession of tremors that make the hairs on the back of his neck bristle and his skin prickle with heat. "Aominecchi... Did you really not think about me when you thought you were dying?"

" _Oh,_ " comes the exhalation of shock and drop of comprehension as Aomine puts the pieces together. "Is _that_ what you were dreaming about?"

"Mm," Kise hums, pressing his lips to the thrum in Aomine's throat. "Something like that."

Aomine inhales, heavy like he's getting ready for a long-winded explanation, but "Yeah... Yeah, I did," is all he offers.

Kise is curious, but he doesn't press for more details. Just knowing that Aomine did is satisfying enough. His lips curl at the lie and he fits a knee between Aomine's legs, reaches for the coarse ends of hair at the nape of the other's neck. "Anyway, how did you sleep?"

"Dunno, knocked out soon as my eyes shut and woke up to your claws into my chest. What about you?" Aomine's thumb stops at the dip of Kise's spine, makes him tremble like his body's already going through the withdrawal of the other's touch.

Kise licks over the ridge in Aomine's throat, rides his knee against the other's groin and grins when Aomine's hand flexes out and sinks fingers into the curve of his ass. "Good," he purrs as he drops his hand to Aomine's cock. "Could use a reminder of last night though." 

Aomine's hand glides across Kise's hip, closes around his cock and Kise's stomach flutters like there's a colony of tiny hummingbirds residing between the walls. The other slides his thumbnail up the hard-filled length of Kise's shaft before dragging out an upstroke slow and torturous. "Forgot so soon?"

"Maybe," Kise breathes, scraping his teeth along the other's throat. He gives a quick flick of his wrist, drawing a low groan from the other.

"Then I guess I better make you remember," Aomine drawls, tipping back and in. Kise can see his eyes now, the blue nearly obliterated by obsidian black. He's smirking, smug and seductive and that look sets Kise's blood on fire like a dropped match to gasoline. Aomine's hand is still moving excruciatingly slow, making Kise's chest go tight like each stroke deprives him of a crucial breath. He rocks up into Aomine's grip, but the other lets his hold go in favour of pinning Kise down on the bed. Kise loses his own grip on the Aomine's cock, but the other doesn't seem to care. Aomine sheds the comforter off their bodies, and Kise's heart is racing too fast, adrenaline pumping rich into his veins and he can hear his breath coming in quicker, harder, shorter.

"Make me remember," Kise challenges and Aomine swings a leg across his hip, ducks in with a fist wound tight in Kise's hair. The sensation prickles along his scalp, sharp like pins and needles. It makes Kise hiss before Aomine's mouth is crushing against his. He can feel the weight of Aomine's cock bump against his own, makes him gasp a breath and Aomine takes the opportunity to slip his tongue passed Kise's lips and sweep the inside of his mouth. The pain from the headache is long gone, replaced by the burn of tension of his head being tugged taut by his hair, and the fire-starting friction of Aomine's cock against his own.

"You really are greedy," Aomine says, tone dipped low and Kise can feel the rumble resonating in the other's chest. Kise laughs, the sound paper-thin and breathless as he works a hand between them and wraps it around both their cocks.

"Love is blind and greed is insatiable," Kise taunts, lifting his hips off the bed to grind against the other.

"Chinese proverb," observes Aomine. "Guess that means I'm the blind one, huh."

"You'd have to be to love someone like me." Kise tips his chin, meshes their mouths together and glides his hand along their shafts in time with each roll of Aomine's hips. The other's groan hums vibration against his lips, eyes closed to the sound of exchanged air between them and the pleasure-filled tremors that work their way out into his limbs. His stomach is dropping like he's free falling, his thoughts start swimming until there's nothing but murk inside his head. The fire under his skin lights the coil wound tight in the pit of his stomach and all at once it's like an explosion of fireworks going off inside his body as his orgasm hits, sparks sensation in bursts of light that momentarily white out his vision.

"Mm, you came," Aomine croons as he lets the hold on Kise's hair go, rocks back on his heels and Kise is just blinking himself into clarity as the other drags two fingers through the sticky-sheen mess across his stomach. "This'll do, yeah?"

It's rhetorical, Kise assumes, since Aomine doesn't wait for an answer before knocking his knees aside and slicking come across his entrance. It makes Kise's stomach swoop in both anticipation and after-orgasm bliss, hyper-sensitive to Aomine's crude touch. He barely has time to catch up as Aomine pushes the both fingers into his body, and Kise feels the air blister like fire in his lungs before realising he had been holding his breath. There's pressure and the burn of being stretched too-wide, too-quick but the sensation just bleeds out satisfaction into his veins, converts pain into pleasure when Aomine spreads his fingers and he can feel himself giving way to the stretch. He chokes on an inhale as Aomine grinds deeper, and there isn't a moment he can catch a clear thought, not even when Aomine's thrusts become just slightly more rhythmic. 

It feels like an eternity before the other considers Kise to be ready, Kise deciding that he _had_ been a long time ago, and he withdrawals his fingers so quick that the sharp sting makes Kise shudder and the motion only makes him flush harder. Aomine's leaning over him to reach for the drawer when Kise musters enough coherency to stop him before he does.

"I trust you," he says, and flames of fire blue flicker hot in Aomine's gaze but there's also the question of reciprocated trust pulling tight at Aomine's mouth. So, "I'm clean," is what he says and Aomine's eyes darken like the flames have been snuffed out and there's nothing left of them but smouldering coal black. It makes Kise's blood spike hot with electricity, but also creates this ballooning effect in his chest, swelling and sticking to his ribs because Aomine pulls back, stops to press a kiss to Kise's mouth and Kise wants to say it; wants to tell him that he's pretty sure he's made up his mind and Aomine has been the one and only thing that's been missing in his life and everything else has been a pathetic attempt to fill that void. But he doesn't, it's too hot and he's too flustered for words. Aomine doesn't have to say anything for Kise to know that trust is there on his behalf too. So instead, he squirms in Aomine's grip on his thighs, lets a whine escape when he feels the tip of Aomine's cock slide into him. He braces himself against the sheets and shuts his eyes to the sensation of the burn of being stretched raw and filled all at once, the high-pitched whir in his throat breaking off into a choked sob. But then it's all over and he's got the heavy heat of Aomine's body pressing into him after he hooks both of Kise's legs over his shoulders, bending Kise in half like he's some sort of circus contortionist.

"Fuck," Kise spits as Aomine's cock sinks further into him until he can feel himself form to the thick shape of it, until all he can think about is the way it feels to be trapped tight in between Aomine's arms as the other fucks into him languid and deep and all Kise can do is moan breathless against his shoulder, drag teeth and nails across the other's skin. He doesn't need to touch himself, his cock stroking against the tight ribbed muscles in Aomine's stomach causes enough static-friction and Aomine keeps hitting the spot that starbursts white across his vision on every other thrust.

" _Kise_ ," Aomine groans, his head tucked into the crook of Kise's neck. His lips are warm against already heated skin, and Kise feels like he's melting from the inside out. "Fuck... _Fuck_ _,_ you're so amazing."

His skin flares hot at the embarrassment, the words too honest and affectionate than what he deserves and there goes that tightness in his chest again, crushing painful pressure against his lungs. "Ao..." he tries but there are too many syllables to the name and not enough air in his lungs to continue. It doesn't matter anyway, he can feel the tense-then-tremor wrack through the other as Aomine pushes so deep that Kise feels like he can taste his shape at the back of his throat, lips become teeth scraping at the side of his neck and then the pulse of pleasure is pooling into him. Kise gives in to the sensation sparking like wildfire across his skin; he's trying to say Aomine's name or give warning but it's just broken sobbing as he comes, spraying hot against his chest and chin and some catches at his lip. Kise doesn't even think about it, his mouth is open and sucking in air like he hasn't been breathing this entire time and if it weren't the fact that he's not dead yet he wouldn't be convinced otherwise. But he doesn't think when he lashes out to sweep across his lip, catching the bitter salt-flat of his own come on the tip of his tongue. There's a hum of satisfaction that rumbles in his throat and he's still shuddering through waves of heat that drag him under, shimmering from this reality and the next.

Kise isn't fully aware of when Aomine's arms around him relax or when the other slowly pulls back, easing Kise's trembling legs off his shoulders and somewhere in the far-away distance he can here Aomine saying something but it sounds like he's above water. When Kise's gaze slides slow up the other's chest to land on his face it's like Kise is looking at Aomine from the depths of the sea and he has to squint for the sunlight streaming into the room is gleaming off Aomine's hair, blinding him.

"You okay?" he finally hears and a cacophony of sound comes rushing in all at once; the birds chittering and a car alarm blaring in the distance, the piercing drone of a jackhammer on some construction site and finally Aomine's throaty laugh as he leans in for a kiss Kise isn't coherent enough to reciprocate yet. "Wake up, Ryōta."

"Hm," Kise hums, flickering back into focus with warmth tingling along his spine. "Hi."

Aomine's grin is soft and teasing as his thumb strokes across the heat in Kise's cheek. "Looked like you were gonna pass out on me."

"Mm... for a minute I thought I was," Kise admits, the sound translating hazy and dreamy to his ears. He tips his chin up to return the kiss from moments before. The heavy heat of Aomine's body is almost too much, almost suffocating. After all, Kise can barely breathe on his own yet. But the warmth feels good, his limbs tangled with Aomine's own feels even better and Kise can barely feel the dull throb of pain in his spine like Aomine's his own form of medicine.

Aomine laughs against his mouth, bright and youthful as if they're fourteen years old again. "I was that good, huh?"

Kise snorts, laughter catching in his throat as it bubbles it's way out. "Don't flatter yourself."

Aomine tugs at his hair as another burst of laughter escapes his mouth and warm breath spills across Kise's lips. Aomine's incredibly close, their noses are pressed together, lips brushing in almost-kisses and Kise swears he's never seen the brown encircling the other's pupils like nebula clouds of a faraway galaxy. His eyes are even more striking up this close, makes Kise feel almost breathless like he's discovering the vast beauty of the universe for the very first time.

"When did you stop?" asks Kise, so sudden that he doesn't even realise he's asking the question before he says it.

Aomine blinks, his mouth takes the shape of an inquisitive quirk. "Huh? Stop what?"

"Smiling," Kise says, giving voice to thought as he lifts his hand to poke at the corner of Aomine's mouth. "I haven't seen you smile like this in a long time."

"You haven't seen me in a long time," Aomine answers, catching Kise's bottom lip in between his teeth.

"So like, since I left? That was when you stopped?" Kise teases.

Aomine growls and pinches at the thin layer of skin at Kise's ribs. "Shut up."

His hiss takes the shape of a laugh as he squirms under Aomine's skittering fingers. "Ooh too soon?"

"You're really asking for it, ain't ya?"

Kise smiles wide, the light of an idea sparkling in his mind. "Let's go down to that old street court we used to play on and have a game of one on one."

"What?" Aomine chokes a laugh, pushes himself up on his arms so Kise has to look up at him, sits back like he's considering the thought. "Shit... I dunno. I haven't played basketball since high school."

"Making excuses, mister _'I'm gonna be an NBA superstar'?_ What happened to ' _the only one who can beat me is me'_  ?" Kise mocks, dipping his voice low to match the smooth baritone octave of the other's voice, as he props himself up on his elbows.

Aomine scoffs as he gets out of bed and Kise's eyes drag up the expanse of the other's body. "The only one who can beat me is still me. You know I'm gonna kick your ass, like _always_ _._ "

"You know... You're really sexy, Aominecchi," Kise says as he follows the other, slips out of bed and nearly falls back when he tries standing steady on shaky legs.

"Don't try to sweet talk your way outta this. Your pretty boy charm doesn't work on me."

"It did at one point," Kise chirps, slapping Aomine's ass as the other turns for the door.

Aomine turns over his shoulder, his eyes fading dark in time to the smirk that spreads across his face. "I'm gonna beat you so fuckin' bad."

"I look forward to it," Kise says, reaching for the other's hip to guide him in closer so that he can press his lips to the crater left by Aomine's most recent bullet wound. He's turning into Kise's embrace when the shrill sound of a phone ringing cuts through the silence. "Is that yours?"

"Yeah," Aomine says, blinking back the distraction Kise can see clouding his eyes. "Could be my captain with news of my reinstatement."

"Ah," Kise grins as he lets the other go to search for his cell phone somewhere in the apartment. "Here's hoping it's good news."

"Yeah," Aomine says as he walks up the hall.

Kise calls after him, swinging around the doorway with sudden remembrance of the journey to the bedroom from the night before. "Aominecchi — please watch out for the glass!"

"Relax, I ain't blind," Aomine says as he hops around the glass and Kise holds his breath but can't for long because the sight of a six foot four, two-hundred-pound plus, fully grown man jumping around like he's playing hopscotch — _naked_ — makes Kise snort so hard that the action burns the inside of his nostrils and he chokes on a chortle working its way up his throat.

"Oh my god —"

"Don't say a fuckin' word," Aomine warns as he turns the corner and disappears into the living space. Kise can hear the faint, "Hello?" when the other answers the found cell phone. He heads to the bathroom, thinking about nothing now but the scalding hot spray of the shower to bleed out some of the aching tension in his muscles.

"Yes, this is he," he hears Aomine say, the smooth silk of formality stretching unfamiliar to Kise's ears. He stops to listen, though it's not exactly the polite thing to do but it doesn't sound like Aomine knows the caller on the other end and Kise is just a little bit curious of Aomine's other, more serious side.

"From where? Yes, I am — why? What — wait, wait — what?" Aomine's tone drops into something frantic, Kise can hear the tremor in the other's voice even from this distance. He hurries down the hallway, miraculously missing the array of jagged shards of glass, not that he paid the attention to care in the first place. His heart is racing inexplicably, alarms sounding off in his head as he turns the corner and hears Aomine say something in a rush of breath that he just misses.

"What's wrong?" asks Kise before the other has even had a chance to disconnect the call. Aomine jerks around and there's a look on his face Kise can't place because he doesn't think he's ever seen this expression before. "Aominecchi, what happened?"

"Yes, thank you. I'll be there shortly." Aomine hangs up the phone, and all the colour seems to have drained from his face. He looks like terror grips his very soul and Kise has a sudden sense of déjà vu. The floor seems like it's falling out from underneath him and the room starts to spin, the air is too thin and he suddenly can't breathe.

"Aominecchi — what... please don't tell me —" 

"That was Nagasaki General," Aomine says slow and breathless like his heart and lungs are failing him too. "There's been an accident."


	16. Chapter 16

**XVI**

* * *

 

"What about the baby?" Kise blurts as they walk through the doors of Nagasaki General. It's the first time he's spoken since they boarded the plane to Nagasaki a little over five hours ago.

"I don't know," Aomine snaps. He doesn't mean to be harsh with Kise but fear of the unknown draws tension in his muscles and not knowing how serious things are grates frustration along his nerves and drags down his spine. There's a crushing pressure in his chest and an icy coil wound tight in his gut. He's inexplicably cold when the air inside the hospital is warm and humid, and every step he takes closer to the ER's reception feels like a step toward impending doom, like he's headed for a cliff he knows he'll walk off the edge of and just accept the plunge into darkness without having any way to stop it.

There's a tug at the hem of yesterday's t-shirt and when Aomine looks over his shoulder, Kise is standing still but shaking, brows drawn together and he's pulling at his lower lip with his teeth. Aomine knows this expression well, knows Kise is doing his best to hold back his tears and it makes Aomine's chest ache because, despite everything Kise has been through, he's more concerned for Tetsu and Satsuki and their baby than himself.

"But they're alive right?" Kise whispers. There's a tremor that runs through the sound, breaks it up like crackling static. "They're going to be okay, right?"

"How —" _can_ _I_ _possibly_ _know_ _that_ _?_ Aomine swallows the words down like a poison because it's the truth, but Kise doesn't look like he needs honesty. Somewhere deep inside he already knows the answer and what he needs is reassurance, even if it's a lie. So, "Everything's gonna be alright," is what he says and Aomine stretches out an arm behind him, palm up in invitation.

Kise is tentative to take it, Aomine can see the hesitation in the tremble of his hand but after a few seconds the other's hand slips into his and Aomine gives it a reassuring squeeze before making his way past the lobby and following the signs that lead to the emergency room. Aomine doesn't let go, despite who may see but at this point, he hasn't given much thought to the public. Right now the only thing on his mind is his friends.

It takes them only a few minutes to get to the ER, and thankfully there isn't a lineup at the reception. With Kise still in tow, Aomine trudges up to the front desk feeling like the second he gets answers, all the frayed nerves and anxiety churning in his stomach will come spilling out of his mouth. 

"Can I help you?" asks the woman at the front desk. She's got curly red hair and a crooked nose that are home to round wire-framed glasses. She looks nice, but Aomine suddenly wonders _can_ she help him, _can_ she stop all this from happening? Can she turn the hands back on the clock and erase this entire moment from history so that he can warn Tetsu and Satsuki against going on this trip?

"Sir?"

He's paralysed with fear, he can't take another step or say what he needs to say. He can't do anything, he couldn't protect Tetsu and Satsuki. He couldn't protect Kise.

"Aominecchi?"

There's tightness closing around his hand and when he turns, Kise is still gnawing at his lip, unsettled and fretting and there's some silent plea swimming in his eyes that says _fix_ _this_ _,_ _I_ _need_ _you_ _._ But he doesn't know how to fix this. He doesn't know how to do anything.

"Sir — is everything alright? Do you need a doctor?"

She should be asking Kise, his face is still bruised and his lips are still broken, he's the one who needs help.

Kise's lips move around words that Aomine doesn't hear at first. "Aominecchi... Everything's gonna be alright, remember?" The pressure around his hand is getting tighter and Kise's smile is weak but he is trying. He's trying.

Aomine exhales like he's breaking free and squeezes back. "Yeah," he says as he turns to the receptionist. "Everything's gonna be fine."

"Well that's great," the receptionist says with a sugary smile. "How may I help you?"

"My name is Aomine Daiki and I'm looking for two accident victims that were brought in here early this morning. The nurse that I spoke with said I was listed as their emergency contact." He doesn't expect his tone to take on such a businesslike manner but perhaps this is the way he needs to approach the situation to avoid any more meltdowns.

"What are their names?" asks the receptionist, Aomine can now see her hospital ID card reads _Akane_ _Ayumi_ _._

"Kuroko Tetsuya... and Kuroko Satsuki," Aomine says, slow because their names are beginning to feel foreign on his tongue. Kise stands behind him, both hands clasped over Aomine's one. He's shaking, like hearing the uttering of their names makes everything more real.

Akane begins typing, crimson nails to match the colour of her hair, clacking against the plastic with each stroke of the keys. "Ah," she says with revelation. "Kuroko Satsuki has been moved from Emerg to the Intensive Care Unit located in the west wing and Kuroko Tetsuya is still in surgery."

"Surgery?!" cries Kise, jerking Aomine's arm so hard it feels like it's going to pop out if it's socket.

Aomine's knees are starting to jelly and his legs are starting to tremble like he's just walked a thousand miles without rest. He has to bite back the bile to make room for words and it burns through his throat like acid. "Can we see her? Satsuki?" 

"You'll have to check with the ICU front desk for the visitor policies, but likely immediate family members only."

"What... What about Kurokocchi?" whispers Kise over Aomine's shoulder. It's hard to remain strong when he can hear the break in Kise's voice.

The receptionist cocks her head to the side like Kise is speaking some sort of cryptic code. "I'm sorry?"

"Tetsu," Aomine corrects. "Kuroko Tetsuya."

"Ah well, there's the waiting room? You just follow that corridor and turn left," Akane says, pointing. "To get to the ICU, you follow the hallway and turn right. You'll come to a set of double doors, and you'll have to buzz the front desk before they let you in. Same process for the OR waiting room."

Aomine nods understanding and when he looks to his left, the corridor looks stretched and shadowed, like the haunting aura is warning him against making the journey. He has to choke down the anxiety and regain a grip on the situation. He's supposed to be Kise's rock. "It was a vehicular accident, right? Where can I get in contact with the police? I'm a sergeant for the Shinjuku Police Department." Kise's hands are working up his arm and he can feel the shape of the other's body start to press closer against his back.

"Mm... They could still be here," Akane says with a shrug. "Police came in with EMTs when they were admitted to the ER about seven hours ago. If they're at the hospital, then they would be speaking with the ER and OR staff." Aomine can see her finger scrolling along the ball on the mouse, her eyes scanning the screen. "Ah, there's a note here in the file... Since Kuroko-san has been moved to the ICU, the police are under orders by doctors to allow her rest. Immediate family visitation only."

Aomine nods and draws in a breath. "Satsuki's parents should be here," he tells Kise, whose eyes are wide and round and wet. He looks like a mess — they both do — but Aomine's got to get the ball rolling, he's got to figure out what happened because he's got a sneaking suspicion this wasn't an accident. "Let's go see Satsuki, okay? Then we'll come back to wait for Tetsu."

Kise nods and when he blinks, the tears roll down his cheeks. He wipes the wetness from his face with the back of his other hand and sniffles. "Okay."

"Thank you for your help," Aomine says, tugging on Kise's hand. "Come on, this way." 

"Good luck, sergeant," the receptionist calls after them as Aomine leads Kise down the hall.

"Aominecchi —"

"I know," Aomine says. The corridor seems like it goes on forever, Aomine can see the signs overhead for both rooms and they're only a few steps away but he's walking without going anywhere. "I know, it's okay... It's gonna be okay."

"Seven hours," Kise sobs. "Why has he been in surgery for seven hours? She said _still_ _,_ Aominecchi."

"I'll find out, alright? Just try not to worry so much. We gotta be strong for Satsuki, yeah?"

"Right," Kise agrees, letting go of Aomine's hand to wipe the tears off his face again. They've reached the doors after taking a right and Kise stops to straighten himself out. Aomine should do the same, smooth out his wrinkled shirt, run a hand through Kise's breeze-tangled hair, kiss the cracks in the other's chapped lips —

"We're supposed to buzz, right?" Kise asks, jarring Aomine out of his reverie.

"Uh, yeah," he says, reaching for the intercom. He presses the button. There's a pause and a crackle of static through the speaker and then a syrupy voice on the other end.

"Intensive Care Unit, how may I help you?"

"Uh, Aomine Daiki for Kuroko Satsuki? I was listed as Kuroko-san's emergency contact — you guys called —"

"Ah, yes, Aomine-san. I'll buzz you in. Please use the sanitary alcohol solution located on the wall next to the door before entering."

The static cuts out as Aomine reaches for the hand-sanitizing dispenser. An icy dollop lands in his palm and he spreads the solution over his hands as Kise does the same. There's a buzzing sound and the clack of a locking mechanism unlocking followed by the sharp whoosh of the airlock as the doors open.

Aomine takes a breath before he steps over the threshold and suddenly his senses are hyper-aware of the lingering smell of  illness, stale disinfectant and death; the shrill ringing of a telephone, cries of agony and whimpering pleas; the rhythmic sound of machinery and ventilators and when Aomine looks around before the doors close behind him, he realises these sounds and smells have been here all along, he just hadn't noticed the patients lining the halls on stretchers or the people in the waiting room they passed on the way; the bustling of orderlies and the sounds their rubber soles make when they screech off the linoleum and echo throughout the hall. The sensation of it all crashes into him like a tidal wave, nearly knocks him to his knees and leaves him reeling. Satsuki is in here somewhere, and Aomine's got no idea how bad her injuries are and it's making his heart wrench and wind so tight it feels like it's going to burst.

Aomine's trying not to breathe when he needs to as he walks up to the cubicle with the _Nurse's_ _Station_ plaque tacked to the glass. There's a vented stainless steel intercom centred in the middle of the partition and a white button and a piece of masking tape beside it that reads _push_ _to_ _talk_ _._

Aomine pushes the button and leans in to speak through the slotted vent. "I'm here to see Kuroko Satsuki," he repeats to the nurse inside the cubicle.

The woman enters in Satsuki's name and her file comes up on the computer screen. "She's in room Five-A. Two visitors are allowed at a time. You'll need to log in with a piece of photo identification and before leaving the ICU, you'll need to check out. You will have to repeat this process every time you leave the unit."

"Alright," Aomine says, reaching for the wallet in his back pocket. He's glad that Kise's wallet and ID were returned to him the last time he was at the station.

"Kuroko-san has been sedated, so if you're going to go in, please do so quietly as to not disrupt her rest."

Aomine nods as he pulls out his driver's license and slides it under the slot in the window. Kise hands his license over as well, and when Aomine scans the other's face, he looks distant and unfocused, his blond hair dishevelled from running his hand through it too many times and his bottom lip is angry-red swollen from chewing on it. This is too much for him, Aomine thinks. Too much for him to be handling with everything going on and Aomine has no idea how he's still standing. When Kise catches him staring, the other smiles but Aomine can see the crumbling behind it and it doesn't reach his eyes. He knows though, they just have to get through this. Once they figure things out, Kise can relax a little... they both can.

"Are there any visitors by the name of Momoi logged in? They'd be Satsuki's parents. I didn't see them in the waiting room." If Aomine's being honest, he didn't see _anyone_ in the waiting room and if Satsuki's parents are in the room with her, he and Kise won't be allowed to see her.

"Ah yes, Kuroko-san's parents. They checked out about fifteen minutes ago. Reason here says they were going to the cafeteria. They've been here for several hours."

"So we're clear to visit Satsuki?" Aomine asks as he signs the log book. He hands the pen to Kise who also signs the book. The nurse is eying Kise strangely and Aomine can understand why. From a cop's perspective, Kise looks like a bruised and battered victim of domestic violence; standing there in old, wrinkled clothing too big for his frame and fading bruises across his pale cheeks, hugging himself like his arms offer the only bit of protection against the world. He looks fragile, like a simple gust of air could knock him off his feet. But despite all that — despite all that, when Kise's eyes meet his, a smile curls at the corner of the other's mouth.

"Yes, just mind your step when making your way down the hall. It can get crowded in here when we have to call code. And in this unit, it happens often."

Aomine takes the cards from the nurse and nods. "Thanks. Five-A?"

"That's correct."

"Thanks," Aomine says again. Once he turns to face the hallway again, his stomach drops like he's in free-fall and all his blood is rushing to his head. "I... I don't think I can do this," he murmurs unintentionally.

"She's going to be okay, right, Aominecchi?" soothes Kise, placing a reassuring and strangely platonic feeling hand on his shoulder. Perhaps it's for the best they don't look too cozy with each other out in the open like this anyway. "They said she's resting and her parents thought Momocchi was doing fine enough to leave her, right? Let's go see for ourselves and we can find her doctor and get some answers. Everything's going to be okay. Right?"

Aomine looks over at Kise and he's smiling again, and fuck if he doesn't feel like the worlds biggest piece of shit right now. _He's_ supposed to be the strong one, _he's_ supposed to be the one shouldering the burden of all this so that his friends don't have to suffer.

But he _loves_ Satsuki and he remembers the one and only time he's ever seen her hurt was when she tripped and fell and skinned her knee during a game of tag when they were eight. She didn't cry at all but the second Aomine saw blood seeping through the scathed skin, he cried. He felt so guilty because he had been chasing her and she was being so brave because she didn't even cry and yet all _he_ could do was cry. He doesn't know how to handle seeing Satsuki broken. He doesn't know what to do if something bad happens to Tetsu or the baby or both, how does he help her? How does he make her feel better then? He can't put a band-aid on the wound and kiss it better, offer her candy so that she will be happy. They're grown-ups now. How does he fix this?

"Yeah," he tells Kise when he reaches up to tuck a lock of pale hair behind the other's ear. Screw worrying about public displays of affection. He's done not showing that he cares about the people he loves. Life's too short to worry about politics and social acceptance. Life's too short to spend it alone, because eventually, you die and it can be at any time or in any place, death doesn't wait for you to have a long, fulfilling life. It comes when it sees fit, and sometimes it gives you a second chance and you have to be the one to make something out of that. You have to be in charge of your own destiny. "Yeah, Kise... everything's gonna be fine."

It's got to be, even if he doesn't believe so.


	17. Chapter 17

**XVII**

* * *

 

Kise is the first one to step into Momoi's room. It's small but private, only room enough for two people at a time with all the machinery and the bed centred in the middle.

He knows that he can't handle seeing her confined to a hospital bed, bruised and beat up with a myriad of tubing and wires embedded in nearly every inch of her skin. But what's more is that he knows Aomine is feeling worse, and if he can react to Momoi first, absorb the blow, then he can help soften it for the other man, who isn't conscious of his lingering at the room door, but Kise notices it anyway.

Most of Momoi is covered by a pale blue blanket that reminds Kise of Kuroko's hair. He kind of thinks it's ironic, and that he'll come to hate the colour of that blanket if anything happens to Kuroko.

Aside from the blanket, the only thing of vibrant colour in the room is Momoi's hair. It's fanned out around her but it's sullied with stringy streaks of blood that Kise can see from the doorway. She's wearing an oxygen mask and underneath the clear plastic, her complexion is dull and ashen. Kise can see tiny nicks and cuts on her forehead and cheeks, but nothing serious enough that will leave scars. From what Kise can see, there are no major injuries Momoi is suffering from, no casts or plaster or large bandages so when Kise makes the connection, his stomach lurches so hard that he nearly throws up. The blood in Momoi's hair doesn't belong to her. It's Kuroko's.

"Hey," Aomine calls from the doorway. "You okay?"

"Yeah," Kise answers weakly, rolling his tongue back against the sickly acid that's crawled up his throat. "You coming in?"

Aomine nods as he shuffles into the room. He has to work around a cart with medical supplies before he can stand beside Kise, who's standing at the foot of Momoi's bed. Kise watches him, makes note that Aomine hasn't looked at her yet, and when he's shoulder to shoulder with the other, he laces his fingers with Aomine's and squeezes.

"She's okay," Kise whispers, running his thumb across Aomine's knuckles. He watches as Aomine's eyes widen, holds strong when the other's legs feel too weak to keep his feet planted to the floor.

"Satsuki," he hears Aomine murmur but it comes out of the other's lungs in a rush of burning breath, like he's been holding it in all this time. He's quiet for a moment  Kise can see him looking over Momoi's condition, mouth pulling at a perplexed frown as he asks, "Who's... who's blood is — _oh_ _._ _Oh_ _, fuck_ _._ "

Kise can feel the other waver and his arm shoots out to grip the other's bicep to keep Aomine from falling back on his ass. He doesn't know what words to offer in terms of comfort. He can't say everything will be okay because he doesn't know. He doesn't know if Kuroko is going to survive. He doesn't know if their baby is okay. He doesn't even know if Momoi is fine, just because she doesn't look like she has any major injuries, she's in intensive care for a reason.

"Let's find a doctor, Aominecchi. You want me to get a doctor?" asks Kise but Aomine looks like he doesn't even know his own name. He looks lost and broken, and once Kise sees the first shed of tears, Kise breaks down too.

Aomine is a silent crier, and in the end, he is the one who pulls Kise into his body; soothes him with a hand stroking through his hair and lips pressed against his forehead. He can feel Aomine trembling too, and for all that it is worth, this is the worst day of Kise's life. Quite possibly Aomine's too. Not even the faint smell of sunshine and Aomine's cologne and the memories of the morning are enough to subdue the sobs wracking his body. Because somewhere deep in Kise's psyche, he can't help but feel responsible for this, even if they don't know for sure what happened. But this is his karma, it's what he deserves after all the horrible things he's done in his life and all the terrible ways he treated people, he doesn't deserve to be happy and safe and loved. Aomine hasn't figured it out yet, but he will come to know this is all Kise's fault and the other _will_ hate him.

"Sorry to interrupt," croaks a voice from the doorway as it does exactly that. Kise jumps out of Aomine's arms, scurries to put as much distance as he possibly between them given the size of the room. Surely the other, a respected straight-arrowed man of the law, doesn't want to be embarrassed by his busted self, clinging to snot and tear-stained fabric.

"Ah, that's fine," Aomine says after clearing his throat. He wipes his face before he takes a step back from Momoi's bed and closer to Kise to make room for the intruder. "You weren't interrupting."

The voice takes the shape a large man as he steps out from the shadows. The first thing that Kise notices is that his head just clears the top of the door frame, he's taller than both Kise and Aomine themselves. The second is the man is dressed in a white lab coat, casually unbuttoned with what look like zoo animals prancing under the breast pocket and a blur of dark blue over it.

"My name's Kiyoshi Teppei, Kuroko-san's doctor. Do you need some more time?" he asks, extending his hand for Aomine to take while Kise finds himself kneading his fingers into the hashed fabric of the blanket. He hadn't realised he was as close to Momoi as he is, and now that he's here, he can't help but let his eyes trail over her face and the rest of her body like he can't believe that she came out of the accident unscathed. But when his eyes leave her face, Kise notices her belly rounded, a small bump under the form of the blanket and the shape two round discs the size of his fist across her stomach.

"Aomine Daiki... This is Kise Ryōta."

Kise doesn't look to the doctor. Instead, he's following the cords connected to the discs that meander out from underneath the blanket. They lead to a machine that's printing out some sort of paper with spikes of green and lines of red and under the beeping of the other machines, Kise can hear this strange sound, like a disc whirring through the air on a loop. He's never anything like it before, and it's fast, like millisecond intervals before the next whir occurs. It's fascinating, and he's drowning out the scratch of Aomine calling his name and the monotonous pulse of the machines so that he can listen intently to just this one sound. Kise closes his eyes and it takes only just a second before he figures out what the source is for this odd noise.

He feels the lump forming around the resistance of his will to cry and it's as painful as the crushing ache in his chest. He does cry though, makes this choking sound of laughter and relief before trying to blink away the tears that have already flooded the wells of his eyes. "That's... That's the baby, isn't it?"

He's looking at Aomine and not the doctor when he asks the question, though the words are intended for the professional medical opinion of the only one qualified to tell him the actual truth. He doesn't really even need the confirmation from the doctor, the wide-blown blue of Aomine's eyes is enough for Kise to know be isn't hearing things. That his imagination hasn't taken something and twisted it around into a ludicrous belief.

"Yes! That is indeed the baby's heartbeat, going strong at one hundred and forty-eight beats per minute last time I checked," Kiyoshi says with a chuckle and Kise can hear the delight in the other's voice without having to look at him, which is good, because he doesn't want to take his eyes off Aomine's smile. He wants to reach over and hold Aomine's hand, maybe taste the joy off his mouth; just have some form of physical contact with the other because he can barely contain his excitement, but he needs to be grounded because Kise knows somewhere in the back of his mind Momoi and the baby aren't safe yet, if they were, they wouldn't be here.

"Is that normal?" asks Kise, sliding his gaze long enough to make contact with the kind and warm eyes of the doctor's.

Kiyoshi flashes a smile, reassuring in every sense of the word and it's like his aura brought serenity into the atmosphere when he entered the room. "Yes, it's perfectly normal. Babies can have a heart rate of anywhere between one hundred and one hundred and eighty bpm depending on a lot of factors, but the ultrasound showed that baby Kuroko is very active, so it is on the higher scale for a fetus at sixteen weeks, but still within the range of normal."

"Baby Kurokocchi," Kise coos, but the sound gets stuck in his throat and he ends up sobbing delight. Aomine grins, but it's only for a minute before it fades from his face and Kise is left to wonder about Kuroko's condition, likely the reason for the slip of Aomine's smile too.

"Kuroko-san only sustained minor injuries in the accident," doctor Kiyoshi begins. "Some bruising to her chest and shoulder from the restraint of the seat belt and minor lacerations to her neck and face from shards of the tempered glass."

Aomine looks relieved, a least a little. Kise can see the light wrapping around his eyes again, the healthy glow of gold returning to his skin. Level enough to be able to carry on a conversation with the doctor. Kise doesn't think he could do it. He feels almost like he's out of place here, and he's not sure if the anxiety stems from the fact that it's just been too long since he's seen his friends, or that he feels responsible for everything.

Hearing the baby's heartbeat in the background though makes Kise want to stay, makes him want to be strong for his friends and get to the bottom of all this so they can all be safe and happy.

"If her injuries are non life-threatening, why was she put in intensive care?" asks Aomine.

"The impact of the car that railroaded Kuroko-san's vehicle has caused some internal trauma to her organs and placenta. We call this 'placental abruption', in which the placenta becomes detached from the uterine wall. It can lead to complications, and in most cases, it leads to early deliveries or induced labours. There are some instances where the baby doesn't survive."

Kise can feel the way his blood turns to ice with the words settling into his veins, his stomach is swooping in fear like he's taking a nosedive off a plane at thirty thousand feet and the entire earth is spinning too fast for him to keep his balance.

"But Satsuki's going to be okay, right?" asks Aomine and Kise doesn't miss the tremble of fear that thrums through his tone. He looks almost fragile. "If... If anything happens to the baby, she's going to be okay, right?"

"There are cases of severe haemorrhaging and the blood loss can be fatal, but I can tell you this is not Kuroko-san's prognosis. We're monitoring them as a precaution, but I assure you both her and the baby are going to be fine."

Kise sighs relief as Aomine does, but being a cop, Aomine's relief doesn't last long. It's only a second of himself before he kicks into seriousness, and he becomes the detective rather than the concerned friend. Kise doesn't mind it so much anymore, he's come to realise he really respects how strong Aomine can be, how fast he can flick a switch and become someone else when the time calls for it.

"Were you given a report of the accident?" he asks.

"I was given the emergency report after Kuroko-san was admitted. She had been mildly sedated at the time of her arrival, the paramedics said she had been responsive when they came on scene but became hysterical once she became aware of her husband's condition."

Kise grips the guardrail of the bed, recoiling from the words like they're a physical blow instead of information. He wants to throw up, and he's trying hard not to let his imagination carry the out the scene in his head.

Kiyoshi takes in a breath and starts fiddling with her IV bags. "She was given an examination and an ultrasound, and that's when the doctor discovered the abruption. Kuroko-san was put under observation after that, she was entrusted to my care. I used to be an obstetrician."

"Used to be?" Aomine asks, crossing his arms over his chest and arching a thin brow.

Kiyoshi's face flushes and he nervously chuckles, rubs at the back of his neck as he smiles. "I'm a paediatrician now, I work with kids... But our hospital is a little short staffed so I kind of fill in both positions — please don't worry! I promise I'll take care of them both."

"What about her husband?" asks Kise. "What about Kuroko Tetsuya?"

"I'm sorry, but I don't know anything about his condition." The doctor adjusts his lab coat and Kise can make out the blur on his lab coat. It reads _Paediatrics_ _._ Kise really just wants Momoi to be in safe hands, and regardless of title, Kiyoshi seems like a good man. When he looks to Aomine though, he still doesn't look convinced. Kise supposes he understands, this _is_ Momoi... and the longer he thinks about it, he should feel more apprehension about trusting just anyone, shouldn't he?

"How long until the sedative wears off?"

Kise jumps at the sharp baritone of Aomine's voice when he speaks, jarring him out of self-doubting thoughts, and shifts his eyes to the other and his features still haven't softened any.

Kiyoshi gives a smile of apology. "It's only a mild sedative to help Kuroko-san sleep. She'll wake when she's ready to, but for now, she really needs her rest."

Kise reaches out and puts a hand on Aomine's shoulder, slides his fingers against the seam in the fabric and borrows the warmth from the other's body. "Hey," he says with the flash of a grin when Aomine looks his way. "She's just sleeping. Momocchi's going to be fine."

Aomine holds his gaze for a moment, and Kise can see the dark uncertainty swallow the bright blue of his eyes like storm clouds. He's biting on his lip, and Kise can feel the slightest of tremors passing under his fingertips. "Is there any way to wash her hair?" the other asks, turning to Kiyoshi.

Out of his peripheral, Kise can see the doctor's face mirrors the confusion of his own at this request. Except it dawns on Kise before Kiyoshi.

"The blood... in her hair," Kise supplies, pulling away from Aomine to brush a lock of hair off Momoi's forehead. Her skin is warm to the touch. Kise gets distracted though, watching the lulling rise and fall of her chest and ends up with his fingers lingering in her hair.

" _Oh_. Oh yes, of course... I'll see what I can do," offers Kiyoshi, warm and honest.

Kise jolts when his fingers catch flakes of crusted blood in the strands of Momoi's hair. He jerks his hand back with a grimace and guilt washes over him in waves bringing the onslaught of tears with it.

"Thanks," mumbles Aomine and Kise feels the other's hand settle on his arm, fingers pressing warmly into his skin. 

"Well, if you have any other questions or if there's anything you need, just have a nurse page me. I'll be here as soon as I can."

"Uh yeah, okay. Thank you," Aomine says, sounding distracted. "Kise."

Kise lifts his hands to his cheeks, wipes them until they're raw and hot. He feels so embarrassed... and lost and afraid and a whole lot of other emotions he's just not quite sure how to process right now. He can hear the soft pad of the doctor's rubber soles on the tiles as he leaves the room and now they're alone again, left with the quiet drone of the machines and the whir of the baby's heartbeat.

"I'm okay," he says, straightening himself out. His eyes feel strained and he's suddenly just _so_ _exhausted_ _,_ like the few hours of sleep he got the night before had no effect.

"Good." Aomine takes a step back and looks at the open door. "Listen... I'm going to check on Tetsu —"

Kise's stomach drops at the idea of being left alone and suddenly he can't breathe again. He stretches out his arm, grabs the hem of Aomine's shirt as if the grip will keep the other stationary. "You're leaving?"

He can hear the tinny thinness in his voice and he doesn't mean to sound so _weak_ like he _needs_ Aomine but he can't understand why he's so anxious all of a sudden.

Aomine must hear it too because his hand offers calm at Kise's cheek, strokes comfort with his thumb across Kise's lips before dipping in and pressing his mouth against the soothing fire left behind by his touch. Kise closes his eyes with the motion, there's warmth against his skin when he curls his hand under the hem of Aomine's shirt and when the other's fingers stretch into his hair. Kise's can feel his mouth go soft and pliant against Aomine's lips, can feel the anxious tension start to bleed out with the buzzing friction. He melts into Aomine's touch and allows himself to get lost in the sensation.

It's over too soon when Aomine pulls back and Kise finds himself wanting to chase the other's heat and stay suspended in this fracture of time where he doesn't have to think about anything other than the way the other makes him feel.

"I won't be gone long. I'm gonna find a doctor, and maybe the cops who handled the scene. I gotta find out what happened," Aomine says, his hand still warm at Kise's cheek. "So just stay here with Satsuki, okay?"

The panic is back and rises from his gut to his chest, holding his lungs and heart hostage to fear and uncertainty. "But — but what do I say? What if she asks about Kurokocchi — what if she starts _crying_ for Kurokocchi — what if —"

"Shh," Aomine says as he tugs at a strand of Kise's hair behind his ear. "Calm down. You'll be fine, yeah? Just be you. Tell her the truth, hug her, hold her hand. Let her know we're gonna be here for her. Okay? You can do that right — Kise, look at me. You can do that, right?"

Kise can feel the tears welling in his eyes again, it's so _fucking_ _hard_ because he doesn't want to cry anymore. He doesn't want _any_ of this anymore, he just wants this nightmare over. He's scraping against his lip when he nods, uses the back of his hand to wipe under his eyes. "Yeah. Yeah, I can do it."

Aomine offers him a weak smile, but it's a smile nonetheless. It warms him, but Kise can't shake this icy feeling.

"Aominecchi? Do you think this was really an accident?"

Aomine's mouth twists around a grimace, his eyes narrow under furrowed brows. "I don't know," he says, his tone flat with the edge of creeping fury. "But I'm going to get to the bottom of this. At the very least I'm gonna find the bastard that's responsible for the accident and sink my fist into his face."

"Okay" Kise agrees with a nod; he's satisfied with Aomine's violent solution. "Punch him for me too."

Aomine chokes on a strained laugh and cards his fingers through Kise's hair like he doesn't want to let go. "I won't be gone long. Just... stay here until Satsuki's parents come back and if you have to leave, wait for me in the waiting room, okay? Don't leave — for _anything_ — got it?"

Kise nods again, and now Aomine's eyes are dark and cold with emotion Kise doesn't recognise but the other's actions speak another language when he presses a kiss to Kise's forehead; just a fluttering touch of lips against skin but calm seeps through all the same.

"Stay here, Ryōta — I mean it," Aomine says to the top of his head, stern like a father speaking to a child. "I don't wanna lose you."

He lets Kise go and slips out the door faster than Kise can blink, and though he means it in a completely different context, Kise can't help but hear Aomine's _'too'_ drip off the edge of his sentence.


	18. Chapter 18

**Chapter XVIII**

* * *

 

When Aomine leaves the room, he stands at the fork in the hallway and takes a deep breath, like he's inhaling fresh air, only the air in here is stake and stifling and it's not much of a relief. His eyes are raw and dry; burning, scratching on the surface until they ache so much he wants to rip them out of his head. His chest is tight like the weight of the world is crushing him and he's panicked; suffocating, like the white-washed hospital walls are closing in on him.

For a minute he doesn't know what to do. There is a large part of him that wants to go back to sit with Satsuki and Kise and take care of them. But the other half is curious and inquisitive, he wants answers and justice because he _is_ a detective and that is so important to who he is. It's like there's this an overwhelmingly strong battle within himself to just do the right thing but he's not even sure what that is anymore.

The double doors to his right is the OR section of the hospital. It's only a few steps but to Aomine it feels like an aeon-stretched minute for his feet to finally stop in front of the buzzer, where all he has to do is lift a finger and press it, except suddenly he feels like he's been paralysed. He can check out of his mind anytime, let the cop take over and make it all business yet he can't seem to make that transition as easily as he used to right now.

He can feel the tremor ripple through his arm, his skin prickling with anxious anticipation as he raises his finger to press the intercom button.

_It's just a fucking button, dammit. Just press it, you fucking pussy._

Aomine sighs, applies pressure to the digit, feels the chipped plastic give way under his finger and a shrieking static crackle erupts from the speaker. He closes his eyes and draws in a breath, hoping this one will be more calming this time, as a female voice answers the call.

"Can I help you?" she asks, static sparking off the edges of her words.

Aomine leans closer to the speaker, swallows the lump in his throat before speaking. "Sergeant Aomine Daiki, Shinjuku Police Department. I'm here to speak with someone in regards to Kuroko Tetsuya's condition."

"I can't quite hear ya, dear," she says. She sounds a little older than the other women he's spoken to so far today, and her accent is thicker and harder for Aomine to understand.

"Aomine Daiki, for Kuroko Tetsuya," Aomine repeats, attempting to keep the grating frustration evident in his tone to a minimum. There's static bursting through the speaker again, this time followed by a whirring buzz and Aomine hears the clack of the locking mechanism opening and the whoosh of the doors as they slide out to allow him entry. There's barely a crack wide enough for him to fit through, but being impatient, he does anyway, clipping the edge of his shoulder on the metal door as he squeezes through. It stings for only a moment before he comes to the glass with the nurse behind it. Aomine was right to assume she was an older woman, round and plump, with salt and pepper curls piled on top of her head and large, thick lenses in pearl coloured frames. She eyes him with her snub nose turned up in disdain as he leans forward.

Aomine doesn't bother with pleasantries when he pushes the button to this intercom. "I'm Sergeant Aomine Daiki, Shinjuku Police Department. I'd like to speak to someone about Kuroko Tetsuya's condition."

The older nurse raises her brows, nearly silver in colour and she pushes her glasses up her nose with a smile that can only be read as amusement. "Long way from home, aren't ya?"

"Which is exactly why you shouldn't waste my time," Aomine snaps. He doesn't intend to use that tone or say those words at all, but they slip off his tongue like turpentine, brought boiling to the surface by what he assumes is fear that's manifested into anger.

The nurse narrows her black, beady eyes that are only magnified as a result of the lenses before she grins. "Calm down, calm down. You city boys move way too fast, always in a hurry. Gimme a minute. Have a seat."

Aomine huffs through his nose and he can feel his lips curling into a snarl before he turns from the window to the small waiting cubicle across from it. He doesn't sit but he does pace, works off the aggravation of someone taking something dire like this so lightly. It's not her fault, really, she's an old lady, probably at this job for most of her life. Maybe the widow of a fisherman whose body was lost at sea because he liked to drink and fish too much, and her only son ran off to Tokyo with a woman who had dreams of becoming a reality television star, the typical get-away-from-small-town trope, that has the woman so bitter and asinine. 

There's no one else here, he observes, trying to veer off the violence-is-the-solution-to-everything mentality. That could mean whoever else was involved in the accident could have gotten away unscathed. With any hope the bastard is crippled and has no family and is lying lonely in a crowded room in a full body cast, helpless and vulnerable for Aomine to pummel until he's satisfied justice has been served.

It's been a while since he's worked the beat, a few years at least, but he tries to recall every accident he's ever been on scene for. There aren't many that stick out in his mind, but he knows a few things for sure. Getting hit on the driver's side of the vehicle likely means it happened in the middle of an intersection. He knows it was the driver's side because Kiyoshi told them their car was railroaded. He knows that the impact was on the driver's side because Satsuki sustained minor injuries and because Tetsu is the calmer driver of the two. And lastly, Tetsu's injuries — though Aomine doesn't know the extent of them — are consistent with being hit at high impact. He thinks high impact because Tetsu's been in surgery for seven hours, which means he likely sustained a lot of body trauma. The driver of the other vehicle — because it could have been a truck, or a bus or _anything_ _—_ was likely speeding through the intersection to cause that much damage to Tetsu's car.

"Ah, excuse me — you must be Kuroko Tetsuya's next of kin."

He's so focused on his deduction that he hadn't heard anyone approaching. Aomine jerks at the sound, and there's a flutter of anxiety in his stomach before he turns around. There's a man in crisp, pale-puke green scrubs, shorter than he is, wiping his hands off on a paper towel. He's obviously some sort of doctor but he looks so young that he can't possibly know what he's doing and Aomine gets the weight of dread sinking into his gut again.

"Uh, yeah. I was called in from Tokyo because I was on a list of emergency contacts. They're really close friends of mine. Are you Tetsu's doctor?"

"I'm a neurosurgeon," the doctor corrects. "My name is Hamada Hisao... Tokyo huh, you got here pretty fast."

Aomine bites back the sour retort that nearly slips off his tongue. "Hopped on the first available flight right after I got the phone call. How's his condition?"

The surgeon's eyes soften but behind them, Aomine can see the concern, sympathy, maybe even a little grief and for a minute Aomine's world feels like it's shifting out from underneath him and he's about to be dragged into the pits of hell.

"Why don't we have a seat over here," the doctor suggests, touching Aomine's shoulder ever so lightly as if to guide him in the right direction even though Aomine's already moving towards the seating area.

Aomine's still trying to prepare himself for the news he _knows_ he _isn't_ prepared for when he takes a seat on one of the padded, faux leather waiting room chairs. He can feel himself slowly detaching from reality, it's a strange feeling really.

"I'm not going to sugar coat things for you, Aomine-san. You look like a man who wants the entire truth." Hamada takes a seat in the chair across from Aomine and folds his hands in his lap. They're covered in slick crimson, staining his scrubs with Tetsu's blood except they're not, and Aomine has to shut his eyes for a minute to try and regain some semblance of focus.

"Yes," he agrees, the sound ringing in his ears sounds like it's miles away. 

"Kuroko-san sustained some very severe, near life-threatening injuries in the accident —"

The first words feel like a bullet to his chest, this lightning-quick and short burst of impact that snaps him back to recoil in the chair, followed by the searing burn and the inability to breathe. All the air rushes out of his lungs in that same moment and when Aomine's eyes catch the yellowed tile floor he can see it tilting and he can feel himself falling askew with it even though he hasn't moved at all.

"When Kuroko-san first arrived he was responsive but weaving in and out of consciousness, suffering signs of severe head injury. Once he was rushed to the operating room, I found he had a minor depressed fracture located at the base of his skull resulting in intracranial haemorrhaging. This is known as TBI, or traumatic brain injury. We were able to decrease the cranial pressure and repair the fracture to his skull but unfortunately, we're unable to ascertain the extent of damage that the injury caused until Kuroko-san is out of his coma and able to respond appropriately to stimuli."

"C-coma?" echoes Aomine, and he feels like he's not really here like this is all just a really bad dream. _Head injury? Skull fractures?_ He _knows_ the extent of damage sustained from those types of injuries. Over fifty percent of them are fatal, and over twenty-five percent of severe brain injury induced coma patients never wake up and less than a quarter of the ones that do wake up with no long-term disabilities at all.

He can hear the sound of the doctor answering but it's not loud enough to drown out the noise in his head, the _no this can't be happening_ that's running on a loop, searing white noise in his ears like high frequency static. He knows he's going to be sick, it's all just a matter of when.

"Yes," Hamada is saying from someplace very far away. "It's typical of patients who've received these types of head injuries. It's like the body shutting down to heal itself, an uninterrupted resting period."

"F-for... for how long?" Aomine manages, though he has no idea how when all he can feel is threatening churn of his stomach and his pulse race in his temples.

Hamada's shoulders drag up into a slow shrug as he exhales a sigh. "I wish I could give you a definitive answer, but in cases like these, every patient is different. It all depends on Kuroko-san's ability to get better. We're looking for anywhere between one and four weeks, but we will continue to monitor him for any knowing signs of a relapse."

"Was... Is that the worst of it?" asks Aomine, careful not to pay too much attention to the brittle snap of the words that carry a question more heavily weighted.

"Well, yes and no. There was also trauma to his spine, unfortunately to the lumbar region. Nothing too severe, we can hope, but we won't know the extent of Kuroko-san's spinal injuries until he's awake."

"Fuck," Aomine croaks. "H-how... how?" His throat is closing over sound, there's a heavy pressure in his chest and this severe ache like someone is breaking each of his ribs off one by one, tearing and clawing and snapping at his bones. He can't breathe for all the questions that leave his mouth in silence, can't see for the hot salt that stings in the wells of his eyes.

Hamada smiles, soft and slow like he's reminiscing something romantic an old lover used to do. "Kuroko-san's injuries aren't normal for the type of accident he was in. There was no bruising typical of the resistance caused by the seat belt and no trauma to the side of his body usually seen in patients with injuries sustained from side-impact collisions."

Aomine uses the heel of his hand to clear his eyes and leans into the back of the chair as his mind stumbles across confusion. "I don't understand. Tetsu's car wasn't hit on the driver's side? I was told that their vehicle was railroaded."

"It was. The emergency medical response team reported that Kuroko-san must have unbuckled his seat belt and turned towards the passenger, his wife, just before the moment of impact."

He can feel the strain of his eyes go wide, the twisting and wrenching ache of something he can't explain swelling in his chest. Tetsu used himself as a _shield_ to protect Satsuki. The image it paints is his mind is frightening, he can imagine Satsuki teetering on the edge of panic and Tetsu turning into her, wrapping his arms around her and telling her everything was going to be fine. _"So please stay calm,"_   he hears Tetsu say, and maybe he smiles for her, gives her a reassuring kiss on the cheek and closes his eyes as he braces for the impact. "He... he saw it coming, didn't he?"

"It would appear that way, Aomine-san," Hamada nods. "It explains the injuries he sustained. They're consistent with Kuroko-san being forced backwards at a high velocity at the point of impact. If his timing had been a second off, he likely would have snapped his neck and spine. It would have been fatal."

Aomine works down the bile surging up his throat, it's proving difficult when every word sets off a wave of nausea that crashes into him like a rolling thunderstorm, and his eyes burn raw from the gritty salt left over from dry tears that still want to flow but just aren't coming yet.

"His condition is stable... for now, and we've moved Kuroko-san to the intensive care unit for close monitoring. I wish I could tell you that this was it, that your worries are over but — "

Aomine _is_ crying, now, he doesn't think he's ever felt this much helplessness and anguish before and he's not sure what to do with all this overwhelming emotion. There's _nothing_ he can do for either one of his friends and there's a nagging feeling in the back of his mind that this is somehow his fault.

"Post-operation swelling and other problems can occur that weren't present at the time of surgery. I'm sorry... Does Kuroko-san have any other family you could contact? Perhaps it would ease you a little to have a solid support system should... should things take a turn for the worse."

"His parents?" Aomine chokes like it's a response he's not sure of giving. He doesn't really want to have to be the bearer of bad news, he really doesn't think he could handle that task right now.

Hamada gets to his feet and places a had on Aomine's shoulder, gives it a squeeze though it offers none of the reassurance the doctor wants it to. "Okay, that's good. If you have a contact number for them, I can have someone from the hospital notify his parents. If you have any other questions, please have the nurse page me. If I'm not busy, I'll see you right away."

Aomine nods. He doesn't trust that he'll be able to add intelligible sound to the words he should say and Hamada leaves without Aomine thanking him for saving Tetsu's life. It's just not something Aomine can thank the man for when he knows that Tetsu is still at risk.

He isn't sure how long he's sat there in silence allowing the free flow of tears when he hears the crackle of static coming from the Nurse's Station but he doesn't pay attention. He's only vaguely aware of his surroundings, his whole body trembling at so much of a constant everything in him aches.  When he hears the doors open, Aomine doesn't bother to look up. His eyesight is bleary and truthfully he doesn't want anyone to witness him with flush tear-stained cheeks and puffy eyes.

"Man... when is this guy gonna be outta surgery? We checked with the wife and she's still passed out. This is boring, Muro-chin."

 _Guy and_   _wife_ make it to Aomine's ears and translate to Tetsu and Satsuki in his mind and he snaps his neck up whiplash-quick to see a pair of suits making their way through the doors. He can feel his eyes widen in astonishment at the odd couple in front of him, one of the men being nearly seven feet tall — so tall he has to duck under the door frame — with lavender coloured hair. His partner is far shorter, at least a foot, with oil-slick hair covering the side of his face, Aomine can't catch a glimpse at the other man's profile as they pass by him in the waiting room.

"Be patient, Atsushi. There's not much we can do at the station, we've already processed all the evidence. Now we have to wait for the lab to do their job while we do ours," says the dark-haired male as he pushes the intercom buzzer.

The language they're using is familiar to Aomine, as are the suits. And when the shorter male puts a hand on his hip, Aomine can see the golden gleam of the badge that confirms his suspicions. He wants to rise from his seat and take a step forward to introduce himself, feeling a fraction of relief that finally there's someone he can get information from, but he doesn't trust his legs to keep him upright. He does anyway, holds shaky at the arm of the chair for a minute before moving his feet.

"It's just a car accident, Muro-chin. Nothing unusual, it's annoying. He's probably gonna die anyway. We shouldn't be wasting our time here. If I have to wait any longer, I swear I'm gonna leave."

Aomine can feel each word slice through his skin and blister like they're soaked in acid. His rage stops him dead in his tracks, ignites fury in his blood like kerosene in his veins and he's not paying attention to his actions when takes his next step forward, his hands clench into fists and his heart beating like a war drum.

"Any word on our victim yet?" asks the dark haired one to the nurse. He turns to his partner and sighs. "You don't have to do anything, Atsushi. I bought you some snacks. Just be patient for a little bit longer, that's all I'm asking."

"Fine," the other says, petulant and drawn out like a child reluctantly giving into an unwanted parental request. "But make it fast because I hate these kinds of places. They give me the creeps; all these sick and weak people gross me out. "

"Nothing yet," Aomine hears the nurse say. "Doctors are busy, you'll just have to wait. Maybe ya could talk to that fella out there."

The two of them turn and Aomine's two feet away, and he's tall enough to clear the taller man's face if he puts some spring into his step when he ducks in to punch him. What a rush it is to feel the cartilage of the other's nose crush under his knuckles and hear the satisfying crunch of bone under bone, absorb the wide-eyed shock and garbled noises sputter out of broken lips in frustration.

He doesn't move though. Every once of sorrow has transfused into red-rage and Aomine has to level his breathing on long drawn intervals. _One,_ _two_ _,_ _three_ _,_ _four_ _..._

"Oh," the two of them say in unison. The taller cop is reaching for a doughnut out of a box that Aomine hadn't seen when they first entered the waiting room, disinterest pooling in his eyes and boredom pulling at the edges of his mouth, like he's not the least bit concerned with approaching co-victims dealing with tragedies of a loved one with the slightest bit of delicacy.

"Hey — you fuckin' bastard," Aomine seethes, and the sound rumbles like thunder in his chest. He takes a step forward, his nails digging into the soft of his palm so hard he's surprised he hasn't broken skin. "That _guy_ and his _wife_ are _my_  family — don't you _dare_ think you can treat this case like it's nothing —"

The taller male smirks, nudges his partner with an elbow before shoving half the doughnut in his mouth. When he speaks, Aomine can see the half-chewed pastry rolling around on his tongue. "Look, Muro-chin. He's got angry eyebrows."

Aomine can feel his arm swing back, can feel himself tip into the precarious stance of preparing to haul off and knock this bastard's teeth out. But the smaller cop puts himself in between Aomine and _Atsushi_ in an attempt to quell the dispute.

"Allow me to apologise," the shorter cop says with a smile, extending a hand. "My partner gets a little cranky when he hasn't eaten in a while."

Aomine doesn't take it. The man speaks softly and politely as if that'll ease the burn of the other's insults but it doesn't. Instead, Aomine feels like he's being taunted, talked down to the way the cop just talked to his man-child of a partner.

"Inspector Himuro Tatsuya, Ōmura Police Department. This is my partner, Deputy Inspector Murasakibara Atsushi. You are?"

"Pissed the fuck off," Aomine spits. "You're officers of the _law_ _,_ how can you talk about an innocent victim like that? Is this guy supposed to be a _deputy? B_ _astard_."

"Hn," Murasakibara hums around the other half of his doughnut. "You sure are a small man to talk so big. I could crush you, you know.  Civilians shouldn't speak to —"

Himuro pushes his hand into the other's chest, and if he's using force to move the taller cop back a step or two, it has no effect. The other officer doesn't budge other than to shove more sugar into his mouth. "Atsushi, _please_ _._ I will speak to him, alright? You've done enough."

With a shrug of his shoulders and a roll of his violet eyes, Murasakibara slides to the left of Himuro and takes a seat in one of the vinyl waiting room chairs. Aomine's glare follows the man, his blood itching hot under his skin. He's never seen someone care so little about something, especially because one doesn't choose this job if they don't actually want to make a difference. It's taking everything in him not to lose it, but he has to keep a level head and remember this isn't about him. He needs to find out what happened to cause the accident.

"He's really good at doing what he does." Himuro's voice is soft and almost pleasant, it helps ease the rage pulsing painfully in his head while the other tries defending Murasakibara's actions. "He just... he gets impatient sometimes."

Aomine is itching hot, so _offended_ that this man has the gall to even stick up for his ill-mannered partner. But again, he reminds himself that he has to remain calm, all this is for the greater good. So, he turns to face the other officer, crosses his arms across his chest and narrows his eyes. If he comes off as somewhat intimidating than his stance is paying off. He may not want to give either of these men the respect and time he has to, but as of right now they're the only ones that have answers.

"I'm from the Shinjuku Police Department. Badge number 7685. What happened?"

"Oh, please forgive me. I wasn't aware we were speaking with fellow brass — from the city." Himuro offers Aomine his hand and reluctantly Aomine takes it.

"Fellow officer or not — your partner could benefit from learning how to deal with co-victims of trauma and tragedy with a lot more sensitivity and discretion. I'm a little appalled." Aomine tries to keep his tone level, he can feel the tremor of fury sneaking back up his spine.

"You're absolutely right. Please forgive me uh —" He looks to Aomine expectantly before Aomine makes the connection that he hadn't given the officer his name.

"Sergeant Aomine Daiki," he replies haughtily, shooting a glare at the man with the unhealthy appetite behind him. He's got both feet kicked up on the small square table, scattering the dated reading material looking as content as a pig in shit as he continues to stuff food into his mouth.

"A-Aomine Daiki, you say?"

The shock in the other's tone brings Aomine back around to find the officer's hair has fallen out of the way, revealing wide eyes the colour of cold steel.

Aomine suddenly feels heat rushing to his cheeks and his heart starts racing in tandem with the pulse rushing between his ears. "What?"

"He's the guy from the note, Muro-chin," Murasakibara calls from the chairs.

Aomine turns again like he's looking to the giant oaf for an answer he knows he won't get. "What note?"

Murasakibara nods at Himuro as he opens a bag of chips. "Show him."

When Aomine turns back to Himuro for an explanation, the man is frowning as he reaches into the pocket of his suit jacket. "This wasn't an accident."

Aomine's head spins and the ground feels like its shifting out from underneath him; hearing his fears of harmful intent being validated isn't as satisfying as he expected. "How... how do you know that?"

Himuro hands him a rectangular piece of paper concealed in an evidence bag and he takes it with a trembling hand. He turns the note over and his stomach drops through the floor like it's weighed down by an anvil. The note is smudged with black ink or slick oil and fingerprint powder but the writing is clear enough for Aomine to make sense out of the message.

"What... What is this? Is this some kind of fucking joke?" asks Aomine. He can't stop the chill settling under his skin despite the rage boiling in his blood.

"'S'posed to be," Murasakibara snickers. "What sort of threatening message is that anyway? This guy sounds pretty dumb."

" _It's tiring trying to catch me, isn't is Aomine Daiki? You're a wreck! Let this be a lesson to steer you in the right direction. Stay away from Ryōta,"_ Aomine reads aloud, ignoring Murasakibara's poor taste in humour. "This is fucking bullshit. Where did you find this?"

"It was found under the passenger seat once our techs took the car apart," Himuro says. "The driver of the other vehicle gave us a statement while he received treatment for minor injuries. Middle-aged man, blue collar, no record, drives a high-end SUV. He claims Kuroko-san's vehicle just stalled in the middle of the intersection."

"Wait, wait. How did this asshole manage to hit them if he saw the car stalled out on the road?" Aomine asks, reading through the letter again, the last words clinging to his mind like a parasite. _Let this be a lesson... stay away from Ryōta._

"He told us that on their red, Kuroko-san's vehicle rolled out into the intersection and stalled there, and he was already passing through when it happened. He claims he suffered from a moment of confusion which may have delayed his reaction to hitting the breaks."

Aomine pinches the bridge of his nose in frustration, none of this is making any sense. "Your guys processed the car right? What happened to Tetsu's car? It's a fairly new model, and cars don't just _stall out_ for no reason."

"Crime scene technicians found puncture marks in the fuel line the size of pinpricks that would gradually leak fluid which would inevitably cause the engine to stall out, but the electrical system had also been tampered with. Whoever did this _wanted_ them to get hurt."

"This... this is so fucked up," Aomine chokes, dragging a hand through his hair. "How could this happen? Why is he —  wait — fingerprints — did you find _anything_ that would — "

"No," Murasakibara answers, getting up from his seat. He looks a lot taller than Aomine remembers. "They found nothing and it's really annoying, makes more work for us. Hey — angry eyebrow guy. Who's Ryōta?"

"Yes," Himuro chimes in as he closes in on Aomine. "Who is Ryōta and why is this note addressed to you? It's clear this accident was caused with harmful intent, and that the perpetrator knows who you are. Is there something we should know about, sergeant?"

The hand that holds the message is shaking so badly that Aomine can't read the wording on the paper that's blurring with the motion. He's about to open his mouth to explain everything but the sharp tune of his ringtone jars him. He feels like he's been saved by the bell, even if he's pretty sure it's only Kise calling.

"Please excuse me," Aomine tells Himuro as he digs his cell phone out of his pocket. "I really have to take this." 

Himuro nods, holds his hands up like he's offering surrender. "Please, don't let me keep you."

Aomine swipes the _Answer_ key and holds the phone to his ear, careful to back away a few steps just in case it _is_ Kise. But the voice that blares through the receiver isn't.

" _Aomine? Where the hell are you? I've been trying to get a hold of you for the last two hours —"_

"Nijimura," Aomine starts, a bit breathless in disbelief but there's something else clouding over him and he's not sure yet what it means.

_"Are you with Kise Ryōta? The unis out front the Kuroko apartment said you gave them the evening off last night and when they checked the apartment this morning, he was gone and so were you. What the hell are  —"_

"Wait — calm down," Aomine urges, shifting his eyes back to the cops who are carrying on their own conversation. Or rather, Himuro is talking and Murasakibara is eating. "Yeah — yes, I'm with him but — but it's not what you think —"

 _"It doesn't fucking matter what_ I _think, you idiot! Do you have any idea how bad this looks? Akashi-san is about ready to have your balls handed to him on a silver platter offered to him by yours fucking truly if you don't tell me what the hell is going on. I've got the captain —"_

"Nijimura, there's been an accident — I'm in Nagasaki, Tetsu's in a fucking coma and Satsuki is a mess and I — and I..." _am responsible for it all._ Aomine can feel the jagged edges of a lump forming in his throat and his chest begins to get tighter as if the air just got thinner. "The cops here say it wasn't an accident. There's a fucking note they found in Tetsu and Satsuki's car — addressed to _me._ "

_"Wait, wait. What are you saying? That someone tried to kill your friends?"_

Aomine takes another glance over at Himuro and Murasakibara, still in their usual stance — Himuro looking like he's doing all the talking and Murasakibara looks as bored as ever — before turning his back to them and speaking in a hushed whisper. "Not just _someone,_ Nijimura. It's _him_ — it's _Haizaki_."

_"Is there evidence that points to him?"_

"What, you mean like the fucking message that says I need to stay away from Kise or else something worse is gonna happen? Is that proof enough that it's fucking Haizaki?" growls Aomine, and he can hear the phone crack under his tightening grip. 

 _"Impossible, we don't even know if the stalker_ is _Haizaki, Aomine. But still... even if it is him, none of this makes any sense."_

"What the hell are you talking about, Nijimura?"

_"Look, Aomine, the reason I'm calling you is you're needed back here. There's been another murder. More than one. It's fucking bad."_

Aomine feels it when his stomach plummets to the tile beneath him and his veins fill with ice. "W-what?"

 _"Yeah..._ _This time they're all people that know Kise Ryōta, either co-workers or —"_

"Fuck... Fuck. _Fuck._ What about his family? His mom and sisters? Kasamatsu Yukio, his agent? Or Junko Kaori?" Aomine looks over his shoulder and they're watching him now, and Aomine knows he doesn't have much time before they get suspicious, if they haven't already. This is _his_ case, and that fucking bastard Haizaki has just made it personal.

_"They're safe, they've each been moved to undisclosed locations as persons of interest in this case. Kise's family is freaking out, Aomine. They've flown in from California —"_

"It's okay, things are gonna be fine. I'll get on the next plane out of here," Aomine says as he checks his watch.

_"You bringing Kise with you?"_

"Of course," Aomine snaps. "I'm not going to let him leave my side."

_"Yeah, okay. Good. Captain says he's ready to give you your shield back under some conditions but he's pretty pissed that you pulled this stunt. I'll fix things up with him though. Just get your ass back here."_

"Yeah yeah, we'll talk about that later. I gotta go, Nijimura. I'll call you when I board the plane."

_"Got it... Hey, Aomine —"_

Aomine pauses with the phone to his ear before hanging up. "Yeah?"

_"Tell me something... If Haizaki is there in Nagasaki and he's here in Shinjuku and the cities are a thirteen-hour drive from apart... how the hell does this guy manage to be two places at once?"_

"I dunno," Aomine replies coolly. "But when I find him, the only place he's gonna be is six feet underground."

He doesn't wait for a response. Instead, he takes the phone from his ear and ends the call and tucks his cell phone into his pocket. "Gentleman, I'm sorry to cut this interview short but I'm needed back in my city. There's been mass murder and captain requires all hands on deck."

Murasakibara raises an eyebrow. "You sure it's got nothing to do with whoever wrote that message?"

Aomine moves towards the double doors that lead out into the hallway. He's hoping to make this an easy exit.  "No, I —"

"You can't just leave," Himuro says as he takes a step and then another towards Aomine. "You're a person of interest in our investigation, and so is this 'Ryōta'."

"Sorry, but I _have_ to go. You're more than welcome to call me if you've got any questions."

"Don't trust him, Muro-chin," quips Murasakibara but Aomine's already slapping the plexiglass to alert the ignorant nurse of his departure. They're boxing him in when she opens the door and in an instant, he's stumbling back through the doors.

"Aomine-san!" Himuro calls, jogging to catch the edge of the door. He does and Aomine freezes just as he's about to clear the doorway. "I'll be calling you, so make sure you answer. Please don't do anything stupid. I'm sure as an officer of the law, you already know that but..."

Aomine's heart is racing and he feels like the piercing silver of the other's eyes is boring right through his soul, like he already _knows_ Aomine's intentions. "Yeah, sure. Good luck with your investigation."

He turns on his heel but he's suddenly jerked back by the collar of his t-shirt, the force enough to buckle his knees and trip over his feet. When he whirls around after the hold loosens, all he sees is Murasakibara looming over him, lavender hair obscuring the static purple of the other's eyes, with nauseatingly frightening Aomine's never felt before, and it makes all the hairs on his skin bristle.

"The note, Mine-chin," he says, the too-personal and unprofessional name clinging thickly like candied sugar to his tongue and it confuses Aomine because the tone doesn't match the vibe. Murasakibara doesn't wait for Aomine to hand him the piece of evidence, instead, he plucks it from Aomine's grasp just like that, and with a little nudge that's more of a shove, to the shoulder, sends him on his way. Aomine stumbles, blinking nonplussed in the moment trying to figure out what the _hell_ just happened. Himuro's eyes don't leave his own until the heavy metal doors have closed in front of the pair. There's an unusual, unsettling look to them; something Aomine's been unfamiliar with since meeting with the detectives and he suddenly gets the feeling that they're not the typical lazy, unintelligent, small-town cops Aomine had assumed they were at first. And that poses a problem.

He works his way through the waiting room and there's no sign of Kise or Satsuki's parents. It's a good sign, at this point, Aomine doesn't want anyone speaking to Kise about any of this. He can't know what's going on.

The nurse lets him in without a problem and Aomine is suddenly overwhelmed with guilt. Not only is this his fault, but he's leaving them behind. What happens when Satsuki wakes up and he's not there? What about Tetsu, who will be there for him?

He doesn't have much time to think before he's barged down the hall and made it to Satsuki's room. The door is left ajar and he hears nothing but the soft drone of machinery on the other end. He raises his hand to knock but changes his mind at the last minute when inexplicable dread overrides polite mannerisms.

Aomine pushes inside the door, clearing his throat just in case but when his eyes do a quick and simultaneous scan of the room, he doesn't hold back the surge of acerbic dread that spills out of his mouth. Momoi is in bed, but she is the only person in the room. Her parents aren't here and neither is Kise.

Being a cop, sometimes having your hunches validated is the best feeling in the world but when you predict the disappearance of someone you can't bear to lose, it's a feeling Aomine wouldn't wish on anyone.


	19. Chapter 19

**XIX**

* * *

Gusts of wind billow across his skin, tepid and gentle and the sun, even though it's sinking into a radiant pink-orange pool below the horizon, is still warm enough that he can feel it thawing out the cold in his veins. He closes his eyes to the elements, lets their natural tranquillity soothe the tension from his aching muscles and ease the knot of dread twisting in his stomach.

The sand is still hot under his toes, left over from a day where the searing noon sun has baked the fine grains of glass as it has the foaming tide when it washes over his feet.

It's quiet now, save for the sea breeze whistling in his ears and the occasional call of a seagull echoing in the distance. It's nice out here, the beach is deserted and peaceful and it's giving him the calm and space he needs to just be in his head for a moment.

It's about time for Kise to consider his options, the consequences of being around people he loves and just how many of them he's willing to sacrifice for the sake of his loneliness. There hasn't been much opportunity for him to think of his predicament but he needs to know if running and hiding from the man who's after him is worth the lives of his friends.

When he looks over his shoulder, he can see the hospital building sitting on top of the hill layered in shadow, looming over the beach. It looks larger from this perspective, surrounded by the bone-thin wrought iron gate that spears the sky. Kise can see seagulls perched on the gate, yet deceiving silhouettes cling to them and make them look like death-warning crows.

Just below the hill is the beach, the sea and the sunset; nothing but open air and possibilities to put an end to all this. But if he goes back, he's risking everyone's lives. It's not a price Kise is willing to pay, and the cost to disappear into the vastness is free.

There's a chill tingling up his spine despite the warm summer air, a tight ache pulling at his chest, guilt crawling slowly under his skin. He can't be the reason his friends get hurt, he can't be the reason people are losing their lives.

He's not sure of the decision he's come to, he just follows his feet as they take him to the foamy wet sand and further out into the water. It's warm around his ankles and it soaks into the upturned cuffs of his pants. The sun is blinding still but the crystalline aqua is rippling pink and orange, and the shimmer of reflection off the surface of the water is mesmerising, like dazzling divinity.

Kise is waist deep in the water now, sand oozing between his toes and seaweed wrapping around his ankles like hands dragging him to the darkest depths of the ocean. The tide is low, the undercurrent is suggestive, like a gentle nudge in the right direction. The urge to submerge completely is too overwhelming for Kise not to give in, despite the water getting colder as he wades deeper. His clothes grows as heavy as his conscience and somewhere in the back of his mind is an alarm warning him that he has no change of clothes.

He laughs. It's not like he needs another change of clothes where he's going anyways.

He uses the last bit of solid ground his feet can touch to push off into a dive, plunging into the crisp water. It feels great like the refreshing, cold depth is there to absolve him of all his sins. The water is clear, and he can already begin to feel his lungs expand with the ache of unexpelled breath. The deeper he swims, the harder it will be to break the surface should he change his mind, and the deeper he goes the water pressure will only speed up the process. It's a painful way to go, but who cares. Certainly not him.

"Hey — you idiot!"

He shouldn't hear the bellowing shout resonating through the hills submerged as deep as he is. Instinct forces him to open his eyes and that's when he realises he hasn't made it off the beach. He turns to look back and this time, the hospital is bathed in mellow dusk and an orange-gold glow dawns the path that Aomine is racing down towards the beach. He reaches Kise, his expression swirling from concern to anger.

"What the  _hell_ Kise?! I've been all over this damn hospital looking for you —"

Kise blinks, still confused as to how he's still here. His brain is still trying to process the all-too-real experience and something tells him to stay there, rooted to the beach. "Sorry," he mutters, taking a step back into the sand. "I just needed some air."

"Well, you shoulda told me where you were going, dumbass." Aomine's fury dies out as he reaches the other, Kise can see his features soften and his mouth open to offer something else but he shuts it just as quick, offers nothing but silence instead.

"How was Kurokocchi?" he asks, not at all wanting to hear the answer, but it's a distraction from Aomine's fond yet scrutinising gaze.

"He's... He's okay," Aomine stammers and Kise doesn't miss his gaze drifting off into the horizon. He's chewing on his lip again, some kind pained expression stamped on his face. The wrinkles are back at the corners of his eyes and on his forehead. Suddenly he's aged ten years since this morning.

Kise sighs. "You were never good at lying, Aominecchi."

When Aomine looks back, it's anguish in his eyes and not surprise. He reaches for Kise and pulls him in closer, Kise falls into the motion. "Tetsu's in a coma," he says, squeezing Kise's hand. The crease in his brow gets deeper. "They won't be able to tell how much damage the injuries have caused until he wakes..." His voice trails and his eyes fall beyond Kise's shoulder once more. 

"What is it?" Kise's chest is tight like there are invisible hands pushing at his ribs. "What's going to happen to Kurokocchi?"

"I... I don't know. Kise, I got a phone call while I was checking on Tetsu. It was my partner. There's been... ah, we need to go home."

"What — what's going on? We can't go home — we can't just _leave_ them!"

"Don't you think I know that?! We don't have a choice — we have to leave _now_."

"You're being really cryptic and I can tell you're hiding something from me. You think I can't handle it?" asks Kise, worming out of Aomine's grasp and taking a step back. He doesn't want to be treated like some delicate flower, he may be stressed and a little overemotional — fuck he's _terrified_ — but that doesn't mean Aomine needs to spare him the reality they face. He'll find out at some point and he'd rather it be now than when it's least expected and inconvenient. 

Aomine follows him, his shoes sinking into the memory of Kise's footprints left in the sand. "No... No, it ain't like that. A lot of shit happened in the last hour and the most important thing is we need to get back home. Tetsu and Satsuki are going to be okay, they're in good hands. We gotta work on keepin' everyone else safe now. We've gotta find who's behind all this. Yeah?" He's reaching but Kise can feel the foamy edge of the tide against his heels and the seemingly endless ocean feels like freedom — an escape from this never-ending nightmare.

But then Aomine smiles, and the fading sunlight catches his eyes in just the right way that makes Kise feel like the only escape he wants is right there in Aomine's open and waiting palm.


	20. Chapter 20

**XX**

* * *

 

Aomine isn't in the mood for anyone's bullshit when he walks into the station. It's late in the day; he hasn't had his coffee yet and he hasn't slept. 

Unfortunately, he's forced to deal with the wrath of Akashi Seijūrō the second he walks in the door.

"— appalling behaviour for a decorated sergeant and I should have your badge for that stunt," Aomine hears as he tunes into the one-sided conversation. Akashi is staring at him with a sharp-edged gleam in his eyes that suggests wanting to do more harm than just take Aomine's badge. 

"I didn't even have my badge," Aomine quips, a little too snarky for professionalism. He doesn't bother standing there to listen, he can smell the coffee coming from the break room and his nose has already forced his feet to follow the aroma. Akashi is right on his heels, taking two graceful strides at a time to keep up with Aomine's one. "And Kise ain't a criminal. Our friends were in a horrible accident, and I was called as next of kin. I figured I could keep a better eye on him if I were to take him with me."

Akashi stops in front of him, the other's head snapping neck-breaking quick to intrude Aomine's line of sight. "Are you suggesting the officers _you_ insisted on posting outside the perpetrator's door aren't capable of doing their job in 'keeping an eye on him'? Are you telling me that you're wasting the department's time and money on two men who aren't fit to be on the police force if they're not able to handle the simple task of being guard dogs?"

"Of course that's not what I'm sayin'," Aomine snorts, pivoting around Akashi and into the break room. "I meant —"

"What you meant is that you're too personally involved with the accused and that you need to be removed out of this equation. I've already spoken to your captain. You are no longer the lead on this case —"

"You can't do that," Aomine snaps, his fingers closing tighter around the handle of the ceramic mug while he envisions his hand closing around the other's neck.

"— and if you continue to indulge in intimately fraternizing with Kise Ryōta then every one of your cases will come into question, meaning my department will come into question and that is unacceptable. I win, Aomine Daiki. Do you understand? Everything I do is absolute. If you bring the District Attorney's office down because you can't contain your disgusting primitive urges then I'll have no choice but to destroy you."

Aomine steps in closer, tries to use his height as an advantage on the shorter man, but Akashi doesn't budge. He doesn't even blink. He continues to hold Aomine's challenging stare with one of his own; a look so cold that it burns like fire and it bristles the hairs on the back of Aomine's neck. "We'll see about that," he growls and he doesn't realise he's snapped the handle on the mug until it shatters into several shards on the break room floor. "Kise ain't guilty and I'll prove it to you. And when I do, I'll fuckin' rub your nose in it. I'll —"

"Stay away from Kise Ryōta. I won't warn you again." 

Before Aomine has the chance to retort, Akashi's turning so swiftly that the silvery grey suit jacket he has draped over his shoulders billows out like a superhero's cape. Except the man is no superhero. He's a villain. And the longer Aomine stares burning holes in the other's back, the more and more uneasy he feels about Akashi's threat. Unfortunately, he doesn't have the time to dwell, because his captain strolls through the doorway with a broom. 

"He's pissed," Harasawa remarks, handing over the broom. "And he has every right to be. Aomine, what were you thinking?"

Aomine takes the broom with a shaking hand and he can't tell if it's from fear or from anger. "I wasn't," he mutters as he sweeps up the mess. "Satsuki and her husband were in an accident, I left right away."

"The unis informed me you relieved them from their post the night before, and when they returned in the morning you and Kise were gone. Then I find out from Nijimura you're in Nagasaki with our perp. You spent the night with him, didn't you?"

"So? I was suspended. Off duty. What I do in my free time is my business."

"You can't be having sleepovers with murder suspects."

Aomine dumps the remains of the mug into the trash with a heavy sigh and sets the broom against a wall. He's tired, exhausted and feeling stretched too thin in too many directions. He's growing more and more impatient with having to defend his actions and Kise to everyone. There's never been a case he wasn't able to solve — there's never been a case of this magnitude, let alone involving one of his friends. He isn't prepared to handle this and if it isn't solved soon, he isn't sure what's going to become of him — or Kise. "Look, Captain... Kise isn't guilty. I know he isn't, I feel it in my gut. Isn't the fact that he was out of town with me while another mass murder occurred enough to prove that? Isn't any of the evidence back yet? The videotapes, the forensics, all the eyewitness accounts? Someone is framing him, someone is out to hurt him. He doesn't need persecution. He needs _protection_."

Harasawa watches him, his icy grey eyes soften and his mouth quirks out on a smirk. "You talking as an officer of the law or?"

"Captain," Aomine growls, pours himself the cup of coffee he's been waiting for since they left the airport this morning. "What are we going to do about Akashi?"

"Leave Akashi to me... In the meantime, you need to stay away from him, Aomine. I'm not asking either. It's not just Akashi that's watching but the mayor and the precinct are watching every move you make too. If you fuck up, it's not just your ass on the line. It's everyone's. You're a good cop. Don't make me regret my decision on making you the ace of your homicide division."

Aomine knows the captain is right, but he knows he's right too and there isn't anyone or anything that could keep him away from Kise. He'll just have to solve this case and prove Kise's innocence. "What about the case? If I don't see Kise, I can work on it right?"

"No — it's too late for that, Aomine. The damage has already been done. You screwed up too much for me to clean up your mess this time."

"I don't need ya to clean up my mess 'cause this ain't a mess. If you take me off this case it ain't gonna get solved and you know that. What about our leads? Where's Kobayashi Sachiko? She's linked to Haizaki — she had Kise's wallet! Has Nijimura —"

"We had to let that witness go," informs Harasawa. "She lawyered up after eleven hours of interrogation. We had nothing worth holding her on."

"What? But — but she was our only lead! What were you guys thinking? How —"

"Enough Aomine! You know as well as I do that everyone that comes in here has a right to an attorney and the right to be innocent until proven guilty. We aren't going to bend the rules based on your personal involvement with the suspect and a hunch in order to clear his name. Let the department do their job, Aomine or this case is going to end up in the hands of the NPA and CIB will be all over this. It's already caught media attention, and the chief of police is breathing down my neck — _and_ the District Attorney's Office. There's only so much I can do to hold on to this case and an incompetent, hardheaded — _lovestruck_ — officer meddling in the investigation isn't helping! It only makes matters worse. You want to protect your friend? Then you need to keep your distance."

Aomine's blood runs cold and he suddenly remembers the note the officers in Nagasaki gave him with the warning to stay away from Kise. Everything seems to make sense and maybe they're all right. What happened to Tetsu and Satsuki wouldn't have happened if he stayed away. Kise wouldn't be at home in shock, sedated because he was terrified of being left alone. The killer won't harm Kise; they've had plenty of opportunities to hurt Kise but they haven't. And Aomine isn't sure what they're trying to accomplish he's afraid if he continues to stay with Kise something might happen to him.

Aomine swallows thickly and sets his shoulders back so he can at least appear to regain some sense of pride. "You gonna give me my badge and gun back or am I gonna thank you for the free coffee and go back to sittin' on my couch watchin' basketball highlights?"

Harasawa lets out a resigned sigh before heading out of the break room and into the pen. "Go downstairs and fill out the paperwork. I'll have it approved within the hour. Until then — stay out of trouble, Aomine." 

"I will," Aomine lies. "I'll leave it alone."


	21. Chapter 21

**XXI**

* * *

 

Kise is groggy when he wakes up. He feels like he's been drinking all night and he's now suffering the effects of a hangover sans the horrible pounding of a headache. He's warm, like the heat of Aomine is still lingering in the bed beside him but he knows the other's already left despite Kise's best efforts to keep him in the apartment.

They hadn't had the chance to sleep, neither one of them could slip into slumber on the plane after their experience in Nagasaki. Kise could tell there was something nagging at Aomine that the other refused to tell him. He managed to get what happened with the accident out of Aomine, but never how badly Kuroko was hurt other than he was in a coma. Aomine had been silent and brooding most of the way back but he gripped Kise's hand tight, his shoulder was Kise's pillow and he didn't seem to care that there were indignant onlookers who sat with grimaces on their faces for the duration of the flight. Aomine consoled him, but Kise suspects that it was much for Aomine's benefit as it was for Kise's.

He was fine until he walked into the apartment and memories of Kuroko and Momoi's laughter filling the space came flooding in. Suddenly Kise couldn't breathe, couldn't ease the guilt-leaden pressure that felt like it was mangling all his eternal organs. It didn't help that Kise kept thinking that while he and Aomine were indulging in selfish pleasure that Kuroko and Momoi were terrified; Kuroko throwing himself in front of Momoi to protect her and the baby and Momoi. Maybe Aomine was right to have tried to keep that a secret from him but Kise kept pressing him for information. It wasn't doing him any good to know then. And when Aomine told him that he had to go back to work and that Kise would have to be left alone, Kise's anxiety set in deeper. He couldn't tell now what logic there was in him panicking like that but it came crashing down on him like an anvil, heavy and crushing as if the feeling was compacting and compressing him further into a corner that he was unable to escape from.

Aomine had given him something that would help him sleep that he refused to take at first. Sleeping wasn't going to help him, at least that's what Kise had been thinking at the time. What if he went to sleep and something else happened to someone else he knew? What if he woke up to a phone call that Kasamatsu or Kaori had been killed this time — or worse, Aomine? What if he went to sleep and this time  _he_  didn't wake up? But Aomine convinced him that he needed to rest, that his high-strung anxiety was worse as a result from not enough sleep and that Kise couldn't afford to break right now. During Aomine's speech, Kise couldn't help but think Aomine was talking more about himself and figured that him freaking out wasn't helping the other man. He was suffering too. So Kise did as asked and took the sedative. He remembers asking Aomine to stay with him until he fell asleep, remembers the warmth of the other's arm around his waist and soft breath ghosting across the back of his neck. It didn't take Kise long to fall asleep to that, feeling safe and subdued. After that, Kise remembers nothing — no dreams, no nightmares; only the faint kiss Aomine placed to the top of his head as he drifted off. 

Now that he's awake, Kise isn't sure what he should be doing. There's a mess out in the living room and hallway he supposes he could clean up to keep busy but he's not sure that it would help, seeing pictures of Kuroko and Momoi when they're happy and smiling and remembering simpler times. Instead, his wandering hand finds the cell phone Aomine purchased at the airport.

_"Call me if you need me, okay? No one will have this number — it's what we call a burner cell, it's untraceable. Only use it for emergencies — and Kise? Only call me. No one else."_

He thinks about calling Aomine. It'd be comforting to hear the other's voice, to know that Aomine's okay but Kise has no idea if Aomine will answer. His first thought would be that something has happened to him, never mind that the other might be at work and unable to answer but that won't ease his mind and Kise can't afford to have another panic attack right now. He finds little comfort in the men Aomine called back to protect him. Whoever's been stalking him has had no problem slipping through security before and committing gruesome murder right under Kise's nose. But if Aomine trusts them, then he has to as well.

So he takes the black flip phone into his hands, his eyes still bleary from leftover sleep and the bright afternoon soon shining in through the curtains doesn't help much either. However, he manages to see the keypad on the cell phone and doesn't have to try hard to remember Aomine's number. After entering it into the message receiver box, he sees it's been programmed into the contacts anyways and has to smile at the other's thoughtfulness. He types out his first message, a simple _I miss you_ to let Aomine know he's okay and that he's thinking of the other. 

It isn't long before he gets Aomine's response, and before opening the messaging icon, Kise feels a rush of giddy excitement like he's in high school all over again.  _'Miss you too. Go back to sleep,'_  the message says and Kise's grin blows wide across his cheeks. He's overcome with relief and elation that Aomine's okay and before he has the chance to even think of what to type next, Kise gets another message. 

"I'll be home soon," Kise reads aloud and if circumstances were different, he'd be squealing like a school child having the best day of their life. It makes Kise happy that in the midst of all of this turmoil and chaos they have each other and that Aomine doesn't blame him for anything. He's not overjoyed that the events leading up to his and Aomine's reunion are morbid and grisly and full of pain but he is thankful that the universe brought him Aomine, his rock, in a time when Kise needed it the most. 

He pauses for a moment, tries to think of something to say that expresses what he feels in this moment but only three words come naturally to him. He's not sure if Aomine is ready to hear them yet, but he's ready to say them — and mean them.

So,  _Love you_ , is what he ends up typing back and he quickly shuts the phone and turns it off in fear of the other's response. It may seem like Aomine feels the same, but Kise can't be entirely sure. There's too much to factor in and his therapist would have told him that they rushed into this. That their feelings for each other are heightened because of personal loss and suffering of their friends and their need to be with someone who will comfort them through this hardship. Maybe he's right, but Kise doesn't have to believe it. No one knows how he feels for Aomine better than himself, and somewhere beyond the knowledge that Kise is reaching for comfort and companionship and that the fear of loss is driving him closer to the other, he knows his love for Aomine is real.

With that final thought keeping him feeling warm and feather-light, Kise gets out of bed and stretches. Maybe a shower before he embarks on cleaning up their disastrous mess will help wake him up and put him in a more energetic mood, so he heads into the bathroom and turns on the taps to fill up the bathtub and that's when he hears the noise.

It's a thud followed by a shout, so loud that the sounds echoing through the apartment cause Kise to jump. He freezes, not knowing if the sound came from outside the door or inside the house but either way, he's scared. There aren't many things he can use to protect himself with here in the bathroom as his eyes search frantically for a weapon. The towel bar, however, may prove to be efficient enough to at least hit the intruder hard enough to subdue them while Kise makes a run for it. He's not weak by any means, so it doesn't take much to rip the towel bar from the bathroom, bits of plaster and drywall hit the tile and flakes of paint flutter to the floor but Kise will worry about explaining that later.

He doesn't wait for whatever caused the noise to come to him. Kise holds the metal bar like a baseball bat as he creeps down the hallway and in the back of his mind, he makes note of the fact there's no glass on the floor. Before he enters the living room he sees the door to the apartment wide open and one of the officers slumped in the doorway. Kise's stomach lurches and his blood runs cold, the hairs on the back of his neck bristling in fear but he can't just stand here and allow himself to become the killer's next victim. His heart is pounding so loud in his ears he's almost certain that the sound will give him away and the element of surprise along with it. 

He takes the first hesitant step out into the living space, followed by the rushed second and his breath suddenly catches hazardous in his throat. He can see the wide breadth of a man with his back turned standing in the middle of the living room, looking at something — perhaps a picture Kise can't see. He thinks to grab the bar stool at the island in the kitchen, he could make it there in time and quietly enough that he won't draw attention to himself. When Kise rounds the corner, the door seems closer to him than the kitchen and Kise has a moment of flight instead of fight but if this is the man that's been terrorizing him and the people he loves, Kise figures he might be able to put an end to this nightmare. Except before he has a chance to get to the kitchen, the man turns and Kise is frozen like a deer caught in a set of blinding headlights.

"Y-You! Wha... what are you doing here?" he manages, the words scraping like metal against metal across his tongue.

"Yo, it's been a while." 


	22. Chapter 22

**XXII**

 

* * *

 

Kabukichō isn't far from the police station. Even as Aomine leaves the precinct he can see the thick black mushroom cloud beginning to disperse throughout the sky. The sun has already begun to set behind the tall buildings of Tokyo and the nightlife neon has already begun to take the place of natural light but even that is hard to see with all the smoke in the air. He hasn't been a respondent to many fires before, and this is his first time on the scene of an explosion. It's not something that the Homicide Department usually deals with but Harasawa informed him that a body was recovered from inside the burning building and sent him to investigate. Being a sergeant, it's a bit of a blow to Aomine's ego and it doesn't help that he itches to get his hands on the files that would hold the key to clearing Kise's name.

At a red light, his phone chimes with a message alert. Taking advantage of the traffic, Aomine fishes his phone from his pocket, swipes away the lock screen to see there are two messages, one from a blocked ID and the other from the number of the cell phone he bought Kise at the airport. He opens the app and opens the message from Kise, his hands shaking with inexplicable adrenaline and anxiety.

 _'I miss you,'_ it reads, and Aomine suddenly feels like he's going to melt from the warmth that blossoms in his chest. He can picture the other clearly, curled up on the bed where Aomine left him, his cheeks rosy from sleep and long black lashes sweeping his soft skin behind wisps of blond hair. He remembers placing the burner cell phone he purchased at the airport by Kise's head in case of an emergency, brushing the hair out of the other's eyes and pressing his lips to the heat in Kise's cheeks before leaving and knowing that he's the first thing the other thinks of when he wakes up makes a smile spread wide across his face, turns one of the worst days into one of the best days with just three little words.

 _'Miss you too. Go back to sleep,'_  he types back. Then, _'I'll be home soon'_ and it feels pleasantly domestic, something Aomine didn't think he wanted anymore. He can't wait to actually have this nightmare all over with so he can finally create a home with the only person he's ever wanted to spend his life with.

The phone chimes with Kise's reply, a simple _'Love you'_ that puts Aomine on cloud nine, makes his heart swell until it threatens to bleed through the confines of his rib cage. He doesn't respond, his cheeks are already flush with embarrassment no one is around to see.

The light changes and Aomine tosses the phone on the passenger seat without the other message being checked and Aomine presses on the gas, moving his car forward while happily humming a nameless tune.

Traffic isn't as bad as he expected as he gets closer to the scene but the air gets worse as Aomine turns his car onto the street. There's a wall of heavy smoke that obstructs his view from the extent of damage the explosion has caused. He can't see to park his car but the flashing red and yellow lights act like beacons in the dark guiding Aomine to the scene. The street is blocked off by pylons and a line of officers in riot gear redirecting traffic. He doesn't bother searching for a spot, he just parks his car in the middle of the road and hurries out. The second he's out of the car, he chokes on the toxic air. It's already hard to breathe at this distance and he wonders just how many he'll see once he gets past the barrier.

"Sir! You can't be here!" an officer yells, and Aomine barely hears it over the rush of pressurised water and chaos.

"I'm Sergeant Aomine Daiki, Shinjuku Police Department!" Aomine shouts, pulling his badge from his waist to show the officer. "I'm here to investigate the explosion!"

The officer takes a look at Aomine's credentials and nods, hands him a mask and moves a pylon out of Aomine's way. Shards of glass crunch under the soles of his shoes as he meanders around burnt and broken debris, charred chunks of buildings and pieces of twisted metal. He spots several ambulances and paramedics giving medical attention to bystanders fallen victim of the explosion. He recognises a man with dark hair and glasses — Midorima, if he remembers correctly — as the same man who treated Kise outside the halfway house. There are stretchers with civilians on them and black body bags on the ground. Aomine counts three so far.

The acrid smell of smoke in the air is worse here, it invades Aomine's nostrils leaving behind a sharp and burning sensation that brings tears to his eyes. He can taste the scent of burning flesh at the back of his throat, it clings to his tongue like an unwelcome and unpleasant parasite.

Firefighters are still battling the blaze left behind, the fire appears to have spread from point zero. It doesn't smell like gas in the air, so Aomine doesn't think this was caused by a gas leak. Often people cause fires for insurance purposes, especially in shady areas like Tokyo's Red Light District. Businesses start to go under, entertainers find themselves sinking deeper into the red and they damage their properties, take the insurance money and run. It's not uncommon, but an explosion of this magnitude is. Aomine's never experienced one in all the years he's been on the force.

The building is unrecognisable, even as a standing structure. It's black and crumbling, soaking wet and dripping ruins onto the sidewalk. It doesn't look like it's going to remain upright for much longer. Roaring flames lick at the brick wildly, smoke continues to billow up blackening the sherbert painted sky. He can feel the fierce heat of the fire prickling his skin like he's baking on a beach under a searing summer sun.

"Aomine!"

He doesn't have to turn to know who called his name, it's the voice of a familiar friend but one he hasn't seen in quite some time.

"Kagami," he acknowledges with a grin when he does turn. He bumps fists with the assistant fire chief for Tokyo's fourth fire district, Kagami Taiga, when the other man approaches him.

"Long time no see! You're supposed to be wearing that," Kagami says, pointing to the crumpled mask in Aomine's fist.

"Yeah, yeah. I'm fine," coughs Aomine. "You should be wearing one too, stupid."

"I was, idiot. You look like shit," Kagami observes, tucking a helmet under his arm. "Like you haven't slept in weeks."

"That's because I haven't. You ain't lookin' any better," Aomine retorts, nodding at the other's soot-streaked skin and sweat-matted hair the same colour as the fire engines he rides in.

"At least I have an excuse. Occupational hazard," Kagami shrugs.

"Yeah well, me too."

"Mhm... What are you doing here?" He motions Aomine to follow him towards the fire chief's van, his steps slow under the heavy fire-resistant equipment he wears.

"We're short-staffed," Aomine lies. "Captain sent me to investigate the body you guys called in."

"Thought you'd be working on that famous serial murder case," Kagami teases. "What'd the news call it? Oh yeah, The Model Massacre. I guess it's 'cause of the famous model suspected in the murders, right? What was the guy's name?"

"Kise Ryōta," Aomine answers, thankful for the burn in the air scorching his throat that caused the name to sound harsher coming off his tongue than he had intended. "And don't call it that. The media blows everything out of proportion. Anyways, ya know better than to ask me. I can't discuss the details of a murder investigation with ya."

Kagami shrugs out of his fireman's jacket and drapes it over his arm. "Yeah man, I get that. I was just curious since it's so rare to see you nowadays, Mr. Bigshot."

"Shut up, I've been busy. Lab's all backed up and the morgue's overflowin' with bodies. Had to move some down to another district for holdin'. We're under a lot of pressure ya know, but there ain't much we can do. It's not like all other murder stops in the city because someone is out there on a killin' spree."

Kagami throws his jacket down on the seat, ducks into the van and emerges with a clipboard. "Hate to be the bearer of bad news but you're gonna have three more for the morgue, excluding the body we found in the upstairs apartment. Maybe one or two more depending on the civilians that left in a bus. They were both in critical condition when they left the scene."

"What the hell happened here? Do you know what caused the explosion yet?"

"We can't get close enough to investigate further, the building isn't stable enough now to hold the weight of our men but judging by the blast wave radius and extent of damage done to the surrounding area, I'd say a high-order explosive was used."

"So this was intentional," Aomine says pointedly. He watches as Kagami opens the door of a truck and climbs up into the cab.

"Oh yeah, no doubt," Kagami agrees with a whistle, poking his head out the open window. "I think nitroglycerin was used."

Aomine feels his jaw fall unhinged the second he makes the connection. "Dynamite?"

"Yep." Kagami climbs back down with a wad of papers in his hand. He hops down to the ground and grins. "Good old-fashioned dynamite."

Aomine shifts his weight and glances over his shoulder at the despairing wreckage this one bomb has managed. He can't believe that this is actually happening. "Wait, wait. You're telling me that someone came in here, shoved some nitroglycerin into a PVC pipe and thought today would be the day to blow up a pachinko parlour?"

Kagami snorts and doesn't look up from his clipboard. He's attaching the stack of papers he removed from the truck to the other papers on the clipboard. "Maybe. It's been one hell of a week so far."

 _You're telling me_ , Aomine thinks sourly.

"Yesterday the Yellow Jasmine burned down to the ground —"

"Wait — what?" gasps Aomine, the muscles in his shoulders automatically seizing up with the news. He's furious that information this crucial was kept from him if he really heard Kagami correctly. " _The_ Yellow Jasmine?"

"Yeah, that's what I said. Why — does that mean somethin' to you?" asks Kagami. This time he looks up from the clipboard and eyes Aomine with suspicion.

"It could... Was it arson?"

"Of course it was arson," Kagami replies. "Haven't been able to ascertain who the perp was, but gasoline was used from the inside of the club. No one was hurt, the fire began somewhere between the hours of five and seven in the morning. Hyūga's the captain of the investigating unit. That's him there," he says, jabbing the pen behind his shoulder.

Aomine follows it to a man calling out orders to a smaller group of men who have been running in and out of the building while the rest of the firemen continue to put out the fire.

"He thinks it's one of those insurance claims. You know, the ones where the owners —"

"Impossible," Aomine interjects. "The _Kurokawa-kai_ run the club and its owner, Imayoshi Shōichi, is in prison. He was arrested last week."

"Wait — that mass shooting at the club — do you think the shooting and the fire are connected?" asks Kagami, setting the clipboard on the hood of the truck. "You were there that day, weren't you? I saw it on the news."

"Yeah, I was. Got shot in the shoulder — just a graze — and took a few days off. Was supposed to come back when IAB cleared me, but there ain't enough of us to go around with all the workload. Anyway — about the shooting and the fire bein' connected... I dunno, it's possible I guess. Could be that the fire was started with the intent to get rid of evidence. Except Imayoshi is smart enough to know that the CSU woulda been done collectin' evidence a long time ago..." Aomine heaves a sigh. "I dunno, Kagami. There's somethin' weird about all this. Somethin' tells me it all leads back to a guy named Haizaki Shōgo."

"Haizaki Shōgo?" repeats Kagami, eyes widening. Aomine can read the look of an epiphany on the other's face and his stomach sinks but his blood sparks with adrenaline at another possible lead. Any information at this point is more than welcomed.

"Does that name mean somethin' to ya?" he asks. He hopes Kagami doesn't pick up on the waver of hope in his tone.

"Yeah, uh — Hyūga had mentioned — " Kagami stops short and Aomine sees the other's attention diverted to something behind him. "Oh, Hyūga-san! I was just talking about you," Kagami greets cheerily, looking past Aomine's shoulder at the newcomer.

Aomine turns to find a scowling man in glasses and a dirty face standing behind him. He doesn't look as gleeful as Kagami sounds. Aomine takes a short bow and introduces himself. "Seargent Aomine Daiki, Shinjuku Police Department."

"Hyūga Junpei, Fire Captain for the Tokyo Fire Department, Fourth District Battalion. What kind of bullshit were you talking about this time?"

Kagami snorts. "You act as if I make talking about you a regular occurrence. Your ego is almost as big as Aomine's here, captain."

"Shut up," Aomine growls, just as Hyūga snaps the same thing. "Get on with it. Weren't you sayin' somethin' about Haizaki Shōgo?"

"Yeah, yeah," Kagami says while waving a dismissive hand. "Why don't you take over, Hyūga-san?"

"Haizaki Shōgo?" Hyūga looks from Kagami to Aomine in perplexity. "Is there something connecting him to another investigation of some sort?"

"Yeah, he's a suspect in a murder investigation," Aomine answers. Anxiety begins to well in the pit of his stomach. All these things seem to be connected and it's got Aomine's blood running ice cold. "Do you know somethin' about that?"

"No, nothing in regards to the murder. Some of the witnesses here have started cooperating with police and with our investigation team. They've mentioned that the owner of this pachinko parlour is named Haizaki Sh?go and his wife — " Hyūga pauses as he checks the notepad he holds in his hand. "— her name is Kobayashi Sachiko. I've been told that the two of them are out of town on a vacation and that some underling by the name of Saruwatari Kentarō has been running the place in their absence. Is that of any importance to you?"

Aomine's heart skips a beat, maybe two and if his lungs are suddenly starting to fail in their function, he's sure that it isn't because of the polluted air. "Th-the body — have you identified it yet?"

"No," Hyūga replies. "It's female, that's about all I know. Teeth are still intact, so dental recognition is still a possibility. We've sent it along with the coroner for further examination."

"What is it, Aomine? You've got that look," Kagami says, nudging Aomine's shoulder with his fist.

"Last week, I was at the Yellow Jasmine investigatin' a lead when the shooting took place. From what we gathered, Haizaki is a pimp that works for the _Kurokawa-kai's_ head, Imayoshi Shōichi —"

" — who coincidentally owns the place that burned down yesterday," interjects Hyūga, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Right. Last week, we picked up Kobayashi on solicitin' charges and tied her to both Kise Ryōta and Haizaki Shōgo. She was caught on a parking lot security camera with Haizaki in a taxi cab that he stole from an innocent man, Takao Kazunari. Since then, Kobayashi was brought in and questioned but didn't give up the whereabouts of her pimp. She lawyered up and we had no choice but to cut her loose."

"So Haizaki isn't on vacation then," Kagami declares.

"He might be hiding out someplace else. It wouldn't take long for the police to trace him back to this pachinko parlour," Hyūga suggests, nodding in the direction of the now crumbling building.

"No," Aomine says. "There is nothing legal registered in Haizaki's name. No vehicles, no real estate. Last known address for him was a slum in Ikebukuro but it's been condemned. Ain't nothin' but roaches and rats takin' up residency there now. There is no marriage license for Haizaki and Kobayashi either — nothin' to suggest that they're husband and wife. She's his prostitute — maybe a side piece — who the fuck knows. We can't find him, but how much d'ya wanna bet that's her body. Haizaki's cleanin' house."

"There's something else you should see," Hyūga says, nods towards the building again. "There was a message written on the wall in some sort of fire resistant material. In fact, I think the fire helped accelerate the development of whatever was used."

"Got any pictures?" asks Aomine as they follow the fire captain back across the street towards the building. His feet slide and slosh around in his soaked shoes from the water flooding the street. He notices a crew of firemen clearing the wreckage from the clogged street grates to allow for the excess water to drain into the sewers and another group of men peeling away large chunks of brick and plaster and other marred pieces of facade from inside the dilapidated building.

"No," answers Hyūga. "The building isn't stable enough for CSU to get in. We managed to grab a few shots of the location of the body and a few other things, but I needed to pull my men out before the building collapsed. We didn't see the message until after the fire had been put out."

"It'll be a while for CSU to get to all the evidence, but if this is all connected, it just got bumped up to priority. Looks like we'll be workin' this case together."

"I'll look forward to it," Hyūga says, his voice resonating distance and disconnect but Aomine doesn't pay any heed to it. He's too busy mulling over the possibility that this might be the break in the case that he's looking for — one that will prove Kise's innocence. There are enough dots for Aomine to connect here, beginning with Imayoshi Shōichi and his organisation. What any of it has to do with Kise, Aomine doesn't know but his best guess would be that they're separate only in the fact that Haizaki has a personal vendetta against Kise. Imayoshi may just be trying to cover his tracks by getting rid of all things that tie Hazaki to the Kurokawa-kai. "Oh and Kagami — I'm gonna need a copy of your investigation of the Yellow Jasmine too."

"Yeah okay," Kagami agrees, but he sounds like he's not paying attention to Aomine either. "Hyūga, did you clear the building?"

"No, I didn't —"

"It's leaning," observes Kagami, pointing at the left side of the building. "You see that?"

"Those fucking morons," Hyūga growls. "Hey! Who gave the order for you assholes to go back —"

"Watch that pillar!" shouts a man who's deep inside the parlour's blackened skeleton. He's directing his yelling at two other firemen near what appears to be some sort of support column for the building.  
  
Hyūga takes off running towards the building. "Idiots! If you move without watching where you're going you're gonna get buried under this shit! The structure is barely holding as it is!"

As if on cue, a deafening crack tears through the street, like the sound of a twig snapping in the forest only a million times magnified. The earsplitting screech comes next, a cacophony of splintering wood and distressed whines of a structure that's bearing a load too heavy. Aomine's hands fly to his ears in an effort to mute the auditory assault, and Kagami's running toward the building before Aomine's mind has had the time to process what his eyes are seeing.

"Captain — look out!" Kagami yells as Hyūga jumps over the rubble. Aomine can see the beams above the men in the parlour begin to bend and break. It's like watching something happen in slow motion but not being able to react fast enough despite things actually happening in real time.

His adrenaline kicks in as he grabs a helmet off a truck and throws it on. The fear for his friend and fellow men drive his feet forward in a rush towards the collapsing building as other firemen run to rescue the crew that are about to be buried underneath the remains of a pachinko parlour. If he could get there in time, he might be able to assist Kagami in pulling Hyūga and the other men out of the death trap.

"Kagami!" he shouts, though he doubts it'll do any good. The other man has already dived over the piled debris in some inventive form of an American football tackle and he manages to get the captain out of harm's way. The beams start to rain down almost immediately and when they hit the ground, it's like another explosion has gone off. The thundering crash is enough for Aomine to think there has been another blast had he not seen what happened with his two eyes. With this collision, a heavy cloud of soot and ash and crushed brick disperses, blanketing over the protective guard of his helmet. He panics with the loss of his sight, screams "Kagami!" again before wiping away at the particles clinging to the plexiglass.

"Chief! Captain!" There are other men pulling at the mess shouting for their comrades and waiting for a response. "Izuki! Hey! Yamato!"

"There!" another fireman shouts. Aomine's efforts to clear a line of sight only ends up in smearing more grime across the guard, so he pulls off the helmet and tosses it to the ground. He begins choking on the toxic air almost immediately but he can see an arm jutting out of the rubble and an overwhelming wave of relief washes over him. He grabs a chunk of concrete, pushes it to the side and begins clearing away the debris on top of one of the men. Aomine can see, once he's gotten most of the wood and brick that there's a piece of rebar jutting out from the thigh. He's pinned to part of the building and bleeding but he's not even complaining. He's laughing.

"Hey," he gasps and Aomine isn't sure if it's because of the man's laughter or because of the lack of oxygen in the air. "Guess this means I'll be stickin' around, huh." He tries to gesture his arm in explanation of his tasteless pun but he hisses in agony instead.

"We need medics!" Aomine shouts. "That was a horrible pun. What's your name?"

"Lieutenant Izuki... Izuki Shun, Fourth District battalion. Is it hot in here... or is it just me?" He smiles behind his dirty guard, but Aomine can see the pain stamped out on the other's face. He's managed to clear most of the rubble off the fireman but he can't chance moving him with the rebar in his leg.

"I think it's all the hot air yer blowin' out of yer ass," Aomine retorts with a smirk and Izuki laughs like it's the most hysterical thing he's heard in a long time but he can see that the movement from laughing is causing more harm than good. Izuki starts coughing as the paramedics arrive.

"I'll have you know moving him in his condition can be fatal!"

Aomine would recognise that haughty tone anywhere. It's the same paramedic that treated Kise. He gets up from the ground so he can continue his search for Kagami. "Relax, I didn't touch him. He's all yours."

Midorima harrumphs and pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose. "Well, I'll need some assistance with the —"

"I'll help you," offers another fireman. "Sir — you should really take a step back. It's dangerous here."

"Hang in there." Aomine ignores the fireman's warning and leans in to pat Izuki's shoulder before he leaves and he's pretty sure the other made another really bad joke but Aomine's already out of earshot to make out what it was. He scans the mess for a mop of red hair and finds it without having to look too far. His feeling of relief is overwhelming this time, near elation but it dies just as quickly when Aomine sees Kagami struggling to push a beam off his chest, there's a bright stain of blood on the white now dirtied shirt he was wearing underneath his jacket. "Kagami! Stop moving —!"

"I'm okay!" Kagami replies. "It's Hyūga, he needs an ambulance!"

"Sir, you have to get back!" another fireman says, nudging Aomine out of the way. "You're not equipped to be in this danger zone!"

"But Kagami —"

"I'm okay, Aomine! Just listen before you get hurt!" Kagami calls, moving debris to unearth the fire captain.

Aomine has no choice but to move back and continue to watch the rescue mission unfold. It doesn't take long once more firemen and paramedics make their over. His heart is pounding in his chest, his throat is raw and the tears in his eyes burn like they're made from caustic liquid. He'll be happy when he can get out of here and take what he knows about this case back to Harasawa. Aomine already knows he'll beg to get back onto this case if he has to and if can't, there's enough knowledge here for Aomine to know who he has to go talk to next even if the man has enough power to take out his entire family but he'll do anything to protect Kise.

The firemen succeed in clearing enough away to rescue Kagami and the captain. Aomine continues to watch as paramedics drag Hyūga out of the mess and load him up on a stretcher. He can't see what's wrong with him, but it appears the other men are doing fine. Midorima manages to get Izuki onto a stretcher with the assistance from a few other firemen, the rebar still stuck in his leg. It had to be cut and left in his thigh to later be surgically removed in case it severs any major arteries. He watches as more people around him get oxygen, the firemen are examined for injuries but only Hyūga and Izuki leave in ambulances. Kagami gets treated for some minor cuts and bruises, but he's otherwise fine.

"Kagami— you good?" asks Aomine as he approaches the back of the ambulance the other sits on, catching the two butterfly bandages over the corner of his bottom lip.

Kagami frowns and touches the side of his mouth gingerly. "Yeah, I'm good. Just a split lip and a couple of bruised ribs. Think I hit a pachinko machine."

"You're out of yer fuckin' mind," Aomine chastises. "Diving into a collapsing building like that. You tryin' to get yourself killed?"

"Careful Aomine... Almost sounds like you care," grins Kagami.

Aomine croaks a laugh, his throat dry and burning. "'Course I care. Who's gonna solve this case with me if yer dead?"

"Mhm, nice save. You headed back to the station now? There's not much more you can do here. All the other responding officers got witness statements. I'm gonna be buried under a mountain of paperwork for like a year after this."

"Well, it's better than being buried under all that shit. Idiot."

"Yeah, yeah. Don't worry, I'll be fine. Gimme a call when you get an ID on that body," Kagami says with a grin.

"Mm... I'll see ya then. Don't do anything stupid."

"Same goes for you too. Don't go getting yourself shot again."

Aomine smirks. "Wouldn't be Mr. Big _shot_  if —"

"Oh god," Kagami groans, rolling his eyes. "Stop. You sound as bad as Izuki."

Aomine laughs as he raises his fist in a farewell gesture. "See ya."

Kagami reaches out to bump fists but pulls back sharply as he hisses in pain. "Damn... I'll see you around," he says with a half-assed wave.

Aomine doesn't waste time lingering, he gives one last grin before turning and making his way back to the car. His plan is to go to the station but he wants to at least shower and change his clothes first. He's covered in sweat and grime and a little of Izuki's blood and a hot shower would feel really amazing right now. He could shower at the station, but after everything that's just happened, what Aomine really wants is to just go back to Satsuki's apartment and see Kise. He wants to make sure the other's okay; touch him and kiss him and assure him that everything's going to be just fine. He can bribe the unis at the door, Aomine's sure it won't be that hard.

For now, he'll give Kise a call just to hear his voice on the other end. It's something Aomine's been dying to do the second the building collapsed and he was faced with the revelation that everything can change in an instant and life's too short to hold anything back.

When he slips into his car, his cell phone is still on the passenger seat with the notification light blinking that leads Aomine to think _'notice me senpai'_ and he ends up laughing aloud. There's something other than just smoke in the air; something lighter — maybe it's hope, maybe it's that things finally seem like they're coming together, even if Aomine knows there's still a long way to go in catching Haizaki.

There's still an unread message waiting for him and suddenly he remembers the writing on the wall he never ended up getting to see. It'll take a little longer to get to, but the fire department and CSU will collect all the debris for evidence and hopefully, they'll be enough to salvage the message.

He opens up the app to read the awaiting message before calling Kise. There's no return number so it's probably just some random text or wrong number, but it doesn't hurt to clear the notification off his phone anyway.

Aomine's eyes only skim the message but he sees enough of it for his blood to run cold and his stomach to plummet to the ground. Despair and fear suddenly very violently crush whatever hope Aomine thought he had to look forward to.

_Satsuki's dreaming and Tetsuya's breathing, keep seeing Kise and their hearts will stop beating._

It's different from the other threats he's received, it's malicious and eerily childish but the chill sets deep in Aomine's spine all the same. He doesn't know where Haizaki is, there's no way that he could be in Nagasaki now, not if he was the one who caused the explosion. They had suspected that Haizaki may have had a partner, but Kobayashi Sachiko was their only suspect and it's possible that her body is the one they found in the parlour. The explosion was likely to cover up her murder, and if that's the case then it's possible Imayoshi put out the hit. Either way, Aomine doesn't want to chance anything else happening to Satsuki and Tetsu. If Haizaki is the killer, then he's been around Kise enough times that he hasn't hurt him, so it's possible that Kise is safe for now. There's nothing Aomine can do right now but talk to Imayoshi. He isn't going to get the answers he's looking for, he already knows this. What Aomine needs to do is regroup, find Nijimura and discuss the new evidence and get to the bottom of all this.

If it's all connected and if either Imayoshi or Haizaki are getting rid of the things that tie them to this case, then Aomine needs to hurry because Kise is running out of time.


	23. Chapter 23

**XXIII**

* * *

  
When Aomine gets to the station, the first thing he does is take a shower. The water pressure is weak, the temperature cold but it does its job. He's lucky for the change of clothes he keeps in his locker, always a tailored suit and tie but nothing too extravagant. He shuts off his cell phone and doesn't call Kise. If something were to go wrong, he would hear from the unis outside the door. Kise is safe for now. He has to believe that in order to function and do his job.

Nijimura is just coming off the elevator when Aomine nearly runs into him. 

"Aomine! Glad to see you back," he greets with a clap to Aomine's good shoulder. 

"Yeah, it's good to be back. How's everything going with the case? Did you find anything out?" 

They walk into the pen to their shared space, Nijimura sets a load of files down on his desk.

"No, we haven't found anything useful that gets us any closer to finding out who the killer is. The lab found blood belonging to an unknown source at both crime scenes but it's not a match to Kise or any of the victims, nor is it in the system.The blood on Kise's face was a match to one of the victim's of the bail house murder, but the techs have concluded there was no way Kise could have put it there himself from the angle of the handprint. There was no evidence of blood anywhere on Kise's body other than the blood that he got on him when he lied down in his bed, and the blood left on his face from the second scene. CSU also found that Kise had been drugged —"

"Yeah, he told us he was high —"

"No," Nijimura interjects. "Not high. He was  _drugged_. There were traces of GHB in his system. And on the night of the bail house murders, he was injected with GHB as well. There was a puncture wound on his neck that CSU didn't see until after they looked at the photographs they took when Kise was processed."

Aomine's blood is already boiling, his chest tight with rage and he knows his nails are digging into his palms but he can't feel the pain they should be causing. The thought of someone putting their hands on Kise, drugging him and taking advantage of him — it's getting harder and harder for Aomine to contain this murderous intent he feels towards Haizaki. Just knowing that he's out there with a plan that Aomine hasn't figured out yet, knowing that he's free to do whatever he wants to Kise in a number of ways makes Aomine want to tear the entire city down just to find him and put several bullets in the guy so he can never hurt Kise again.

"That would explain the memory loss," Aomine spits out like that'll help rid the toxic tar taste clinging to his tongue. "If Kise was drugged during the time both murders took place, then he was physically incapable of committing those crimes."

"It would appear that way," Nijimura agrees.

"So that's it then," Aomine says. His heart is racing and his stomach is fluttering with excitement and he's trying to contain the smile that wants to explode out onto his face. It may have come at a price, but this is just one more thing that helps keep the other out of prison for crimes he didn't commit. "Kise is innocent, he's been cleared as a suspect?"

Nijimura shrugs. "In my opinion, yeah. But I still have to give the information to Akashi-san and see what he wants to do with it. He seemed hell-bent on charging Kise for something when I ran into him this morning."

"What happened to 'I don't care who, just find someone and charge them' attitude he had the other day?" Aomine snorts scornfully. "He wasn't too happy when I seen him this afternoon either."

"Speaking of which, how did your afternoon go? Weren't you investigating an explosion in Kabukichō?"

"About that — the explosion might be tied to the Kurokawa-kai and Haizaki. Apparently, he owned the pachinko parlour that burned down."

Nijimura's mouth drops in surprise. "What? But we checked — there was no real estate in his name —"

"Yeah, but maybe it's not in Haizaki's name. We never checked Kobayashi. Accordin' to witnesses, she was his wife."

"What the hell... Well you had a really eventful day, didn't you?"

Aomine pulls out his chair and waits for Nijimura to follow suit before getting deeper into the investigation. "There's more."

"Fuck," Nijimura whistles. "Even though the captain takes you off the case, it still follows you huh. Haizaki must really want you in the middle of this."

 _No... he really wants me out of the picture_ , Aomine thinks. He doesn't tell Nijimura about the threatening text message.

Nijimura reaches for the mug on his desk. Aomine can't imagine that the liquid inside is very fresh, but Nijimura drinks from it anyways, without a telling expression that shows Aomine know if he was right or not. "So what else did you find out?"

"The Yellow Jasmine burned down yesterday, did you know that?"

"Yeah, I heard something about that," Nijimura says. "But I haven't had time to pay attention to that. I've been waiting on blood results and toxicity panels. I didn't have time to investigate if the two cases were connected."

"So the club Kise went to the night of the first murders, the club that Haizaki worked out of goes up in flames. The pachinko parlour that Haizaki owns explodes the day after, with our only witness —"

"Wait — so you think the body you found today is Kobayashi's? Haizaki  _killed_  her?"

Aomine leans back in his chair and crosses his arms over his chest. "Yeah. Either Haizaki killed her to get rid of anything linking him back to the crimes, or Imayoshi did."

"Why would Imayoshi set fire to his own club? And blow up the pachinko parlour? He doesn't strike me as that kind of guy," Nijimura says, throwing his feet up onto his desk.

"You mean he doesn't strike you as the murderous kind of guy or the fire starter kind of guy?"

"That's not what I meant, Aomine —"

"He's the head of a yakuza family," Aomine snorts. "I wouldn't put anythin' past that fucker. Besides, he ain't the one goin' around and startin' the fires, is he? He's behind bars where he should be — or did he get out on some stupid technicality too?"

"Not as far as I know," says Nijimura, sliding his chair over to the at the other end of his desk. He begins typing as Aomine continues.

"There was no way of determining the body was Kobayashi's. All they could tell me was that it was female. The coroner is examining the body now as we speak. If he can find a match to the dental records, we'll know."

Nijimura nods. "Well, it wasn't Hanamiya Makoto. He's still chained to his hospital bed recovering from gunshot wounds in the penitentiary infirmary. It doesn't appear to be any of Imayoshi's other henchmen from that night either. They've all been accounted for."

"That doesn't mean he ain't responsible for puttin' out the hit though," Aomine says. "The _Kurokawa-kai_ is one of the larger yakuza families in Tokyo. It could have been anyone. The point here is that as far as we know, Haizaki is still alive and at large."

"What are the witnesses saying? Can they put Haizaki or Kobayashi at the pachinko parlour at the time of the explosion?"

"Nah. As far as they're concerned, Haizaki and 'his wife' are on some sort of vacation. There was a name that came up — uh... a Saruwatari Kentarō. He takes care of the pachinko parlour when Haizaki ain't around. Run his name while you're there, would ya?"

"Got it."

Aomine's quiet as Nijimura works. He's thought about messaging Kise, but he finds himself holding back in fear as Haizaki becomes more and more unpredictable. There's no way to tell if he's in a position to hurt Satsuki and Tetsu and Aomine doesn't want to give in but he won't take the chance because he'll never be able to forgive himself. So he does nothing but the worry begins to fray away at the edges of his patience until just sitting there idly makes him feel like he's unravelling. It's frustrating knowing that he's so close to catching Haizaki yet he's so far.

"Hm, found something interesting," Nijimura says, dragging Aomine out of his decent further into what feels like insanity. "Two years ago, this guy was the main suspect in a series of minor fires but they had to let him due to the lack of evidence."

"Lack of evidence," Aomine repeats. "How'd they come to suspect him in the first place?"

"It says lack of evidence, but this looks like an open and close case. I think this investigation was tampered with." Nijimura peers around the monitor and raises an eyebrow like he's waiting for Aomine to comment.

"What are you suggesting? That someone let this guy off?"

"Well Hanamiya mentioned how corrupt this precinct was. They made you, you know. The night you were there. Imayoshi knew who you were the second you walked in the door."

"I figured as much — I don't exactly look like the thug type —"

"Oh no," Nijimura interjects. "You do. You could pass as one of them, especially that night. But Hanamiya was tipped off by someone in our department and brought it to Imayoshi's attention. He never gave a name, though."

"How do you know he wasn't takin' you for a ride? The guy's a sleazy fuckin' weasel. He'd say anythin' to worm outta the predicament he's in," Aomine scoffs, remembering the slimy sly smirk Hanamiya gave as Aomine pounded the other's face with his fists.

"Because even when Akashi said he'd cut him a deal if he rolled over on the cop, he refused. He said it was more fun to watch us run around like idiots while we tried to figure it out. Then he shut up."

Aomine also remembers the way Imayoshi screamed Hanamiya's name when he had been shot and how protective he seemed over his henchman when Aomine had his fingers digging around in the Hanamiya's bullet wound. "Use Imayoshi," he tells Nijimura. "Tell Akashi to use Imayoshi against him. There's a closer relationship there that they ain't doin' a very good job at hidin'. He might give up Haizaki if Imayoshi's threatened."

"Huh... Alright, we'll try that. But we'll have to be careful. If there's a rat on the inside, only us and the captain should know about this. If we let on we know, our tactics will be useless."

"Right. Mm... You should press Hanamiya about Haizaki though. Don't waste your breath on the fires or explosion. We'll figure all that out once we have Haizaki in custody. Imayoshi won't say anything but.. if you treat it the same way and threaten Hanamiya, he might give somethin' up."

Nijimura nods but he's frowning apologetically and Aomine already knows what he's going to say before he opens his mouth. "Listen Aomine... I don't know if the captain's going to allow you to interrogate Hanamiya or Imayoshi. IAB hasn't cleared you yet, and that would only fuck up our case against them, you know?" Nijimura slides his chair back over to the side of his desk where his files are. "I know you want to solve this case fast, but if you keep doing things on your own —"

"Nijimura. You don't need to be worried about me, yeah? I'm not gonna do anythin' to fuck this up," Aomine promises and he's honest when he says this. He wants Haizaki and the  _Kurokawa-kai_  to go down and stay down. He wants Haizaki's head on a platter and he's sure Akashi will deliver so long as he stays out of it and lets the DA deal his version of justice. "I'm gonna investigate from this side of the fence. The fire, the explosion. I'll take care of all that —"

"Uh, Nijimura-san?"

Aomine looks up at the uniformed officer standing behind Nijimura. He's got a file in his hands and he's eyeing Aomine warily. Maybe because he's heard that Aomine was supposed to be on suspension, or maybe it's because Aomine's face never has a pleasant expression written on it.

Nijimura turns in his chair unexpectedly. "Yes?"

The officer is pressing the file closer to his chest like it's a valuable possession. He looks nervous and his eyes keep flickering to Aomine like he's intimidated of the other's presence. "Uh — I was... I was going over the witness statements from the explosion in Kabukichō and I uh —"

Nijimura's face works itself into perplexity. "I'm not looking over that investigation. You should be reporting to Aomine-san."

"Yes, but the captain told me you were now the lead on the Model Massacre case, right?"

Aomine heaves a sigh. "Don't call it that," he growls. "You should know —"

"Have you found something that connects the two cases together?" interrupts Nijimura.

"Y-yes, I-I think I m-may have found an-another s-suspect," the officer stammers. Now he's avoiding all eye contact. He looks very awkward in his own skin, and Aomine even notices a tremble in the hand holding the file.

"Another suspect? Who?" asks Nijimura, looking back at Aomine.

Aomine doesn't say anything. New suspect or not, he's convinced that Haizaki is the killer and that isn't going to change unless he catches someone else in the act.

"Um — I don't think..." The officer looks at Aomine and back at Nijimura. "S-sergeant Aomine shouldn't —"

"Okay, okay. Give me the file, thank you. If you come across anything else, please report to me." Nijimura takes the file from the officer. He doesn't look at Aomine again after he hurries away.

"Must be somethin' big," Aomine comments as Nijimura turns back to his desk and places the file on its surface.

"Could be," Nijimura agrees. "But it involves your case too, so we better look through this together."

"Well whatever's in that file, I ain't supposed to see it." Aomine watches the reactions of surprise and confusion flicker over Nijimura's face as he reads through the file and Aomine's stomach sinks. "What is it?"

"A-Aomine... Aomine I don't think you should see this. No. You _can't_ see this."

"What? What's in the damn file, Nijimura? Is it Haizaki?"

"Yes," Nijimura says in a hushed whisper. "but there's someone else here too."

"Who? Tell me who it is, Nijimura," demands Aomine, his voice gaining volume and other officers in the pen stop to look at them.

"You definitely can't see Kise Ryōta anymore, Aomine. You —"

"Show me the damn file, asshole," snaps Aomine, rising up out of his chair and reaching across their desks to snatch the file from Nijimura's hands. The other doesn't try to stop him, he's staring blankly at the desk where the file used to be.

When Aomine sits back in his seat, the forced air of the motion created moves the file open to a different page than the one Nijimura was looking at. This one is a glossy photograph. The quality is a little grainy, it's from a security cam, Aomine can tell. This one isn't in black and white though. It's in colour, and Aomine can make out the jacket Haizaki had been wearing in parking lot video is actually red. His hair is black, braided back against his head and next to him stands a male about the same height with a hand resting on Haizaki's shoulder. He can see a sliver of Haizaki's profile but none of the other male's features except for one thing. The man in the picture is unmistakably blond.

"No," Aomine breathes. "No, this isn't —"

"It's Kise — with Haizaki," Nijimura whispers. "This was the video recovered from the Yellow Jasmine the night of the shooting. Look at the time stamp, Aomine. This is the night before the first murders."

"No. No, this isn't Kise," Aomine repeats. He's looking at the photographs and in all of them, the blond haired male manages to hide his face from the cameras but it's not Kise. It can't be Kise.

"There are witness reports in there saying a blond man with his left ear pierced frequents both the club and the pachinko parlour, Aomine. They all claim to see him and Haizaki together often."

"Impossible. Kise has been with me or locked up or — there's no way he would have all this time to be with Haizaki —"

"Aomine." Nijimura's tone drops low, slices through the air sharp and steely. "I know you don't want to believe that it's him, but there aren't many people in this city that look the way Kise does. The description and the photographs match Kise's profile. There isn't any way you can dispute this."

"Like hell I won't," Aomine snarls. "This doesn't mean shit! He would have told me but when I showed him the photographs of Haizaki in the cab, he was shocked —"

"Of course he was," Nijimura snaps. "He's a model, he's been in commercials — he's an actor — it's what he's good at, Aomine  —"

"But  — you said he was drugged  — there's no way he could have  —"

"Sure he could have. The GHB isn't just for sedation and date rape. It's still used as a  —"

"Oh fuck you! Don't go makin' excuses to cover yer tracks you fuckin' bastard," seethes Aomine. "You just shut yer fuckin' mouth."

"Look, I'm just telling you the facts. Aomine you  _know_  this. If this were anyone else, you wouldn't be disagreeing with me —  I'm sorry. I'm sorry but he fooled you — he fooled all of us."

Aomine jumps out of his chair and flings the folder across the desk at Nijimura. "You're wrong."

"Where are you going?' Nijimura demands, letting the file fall and scatter across the floor as he gets out of his seat. "Aomine!"

Aomine storms off towards the elevator. He feels lightheaded and nauseous, someone's pulled his string and he continues to spin out of control. The world around him feels like it's fracturing into jagged pieces. Nothing seems real, this is a fucking nightmare. And the only way he can figure this out is if he asks Kise himself. He'll be able to tell if the other's lying. "I'm going to see Kise!"

"I can't let you do that!" Nijimura yells, and now they've drawn the attention of everyone in the precinct.

Aomine feels the heat of a million staring back at him. His chest is getting tighter, things are beginning to feel like they're closing in on him. He knows he's never going to get out of here unless he makes a run for it. He eyes the stairs, and Nijimura must have noticed because he's shouting now, foot out in front of him like he's ready to take off the second Aomine does.

"You're my partner Aomine but if you warn Kise, I will hunt you down and arrest you for obstruction and aiding and abetting a criminal! Don't make me do that!"

"What's going on here?!"

Aomine's torn away from the stairwell by the captain's voice. He has a split second to make a decision. If he goes now, he can't help Kise. He'll lose his job and all his access to this investigation. He'll become a fugitive, and Kise will get thrown in prison where he won't last a week. If he stays, he may get taken off the case but he can still protect Kise.

"There's been a break in the Model Massacre," Nijimura reports. "We need to bring Kise Ryōta back into the station and arrest him for the murders of nine men.

"You have no proof!" Aomine bellows.

"You saw the proof, you idiot! Stop letting this guy blind you from the truth, Aomine! He's guilty! He was photographed with our main suspect the night before the murders!"

"Enough!" yells Harasawa. "All this is going to have to wait until later. I just got a call from Shirōhata. They were assaulted and knocked unconscious by someone —"

"Kise." Aomine's stomach drops, and if he thought he had felt queasy before that wasn't it. He feels like he's going to expel his stomach contents all over the shiny tiled floor. "Is Kise okay?"

"I don't know. I've already sent a bus and CSU to process the scene. Nijimura, you come with me. "

"You have to let me go, captain," Aomine pleads. He stalls by the elevator, his hands trembling and his blood the temperature of ice.

"No. You're too irrational, you're too emotionally involved. I can't let you near this."

"Please," begs Aomine. "I need to go. Look — you need me. That's Satsuki's apartment. No one knows it better than me. I can tell you if anything's been touched — I can get surveillance —"

"No. No, you can't touch any possible evidence. I'll let you assist us — but not as an officer. And you will not be allowed to engage in any conversation with Kise Ryōta unsupervised," resigns Harasawa.

"Then let's go," sighs Nijimura. "Aomine, I'm so—"

Aomine jabs at the button for the elevator like pressing the button a million times with enough aggressive force to break it is going to make the contraption come faster. He feels frantic but detached from reality and Nijimura's voice sounds light-years away. "Forget it."

Apologies aren't going to matter if Kise is dead. 


	24. Chapter 24

**XXIV**

* * *

 Aomine comes in first. He can tell by the other's quick but heavy footfalls and the distant frantic call of his own name, too far away like Kise is falling deep beneath the surface of an ocean. It wouldn't be so bad if that were to happen, Kise thinks. It'd be easier than having to deal with the emotional turmoil he's suffering through right now. If he could just make things quiet for a minute, make everything stop and go back to a time where things were simpler and he was happier —

A hand falls to his shoulder, yet he doesn't move on his own accord. He gets shaken when he doesn't respond, worry resonating through the other's voice like the funeral toll of a church bell, but Kise doesn't know what to do or say so he just remains statue-still.

But then the shaking ceases and Aomine's in front of him, hand still heavy on his shoulder and fingers pressed painfully into the bone. Kise doesn't mention it.

Aomine clears his throat. "Are you okay? Are you hurt anywhere?" His voice has transitioned and it's now sharp and professional; someone must be watching.

Kise doesn't dare look at the other's face. He's not sure if the whirl of emotions he's feeling right now will hold behind this wall much longer. "I'm fine," he rasps, disconnected and staring blankly at the black television screen. He's not fine, Aomine will know that. It's useless to lie to someone that knows him so well. 

"You're not." His voice cracks and Kise's stoic gaze shatters for just a moment, his eyes shift to the other but it's a sharp grin dripping malice and grey eyes so icy they instantly make Kise's blood cold.

_It's not him. It's not him._

"I'm fine," he reiterates, shaking his head. When he opens his eyes, pale skin fades into familiar bronze, steel becomes electric blue and Kise breathes a sigh of relief. At this distance he can see the dark smudges of insomnia under Aomine's eyes, the fret and concern that iron the wrinkles deep within his skin more prominent than ever.

Aomine's hand comes up and Kise doesn't think to dodge it even though he's aware of other people in the room. He doesn't even stop to consider what Aomine's thinking. There are fingers ghosting over his cheek and curling into his hair and he doesn't try to stop them. Aomine keeps his eyes locked on Kise like they're the only two in the room and Kise wishes that they were. It feels like he's immersed in Aomine's gaze forever and doesn't close his eyes until he feels the heat of the other's palm emanating against this skin. He leans into Aomine's touch, wishes that he could bottle this feeling to remember always. This is the last time he'll be able to seek comfort in this warmth he's grown accustomed to. 

There's the sound of someone clearing their throat and Aomine's heat leaves him before it's had a chance to sink into memory and his blood flash freezes once more. Reality's caught up and there's no escaping it, they're no longer in their safe little bubble and he's not sure after all this he'll ever be able to be comforted by just the warmth of Aomine's touch.

"What happened here, Kise-san?"

When Kise looks up, it's the detective that interrogated him the at the beginning of this nightmare. "I don't know," Kise lies. 

Aomine stands, there's colour in his cheeks that Kise can see from here and if this was another day in a different time, it would have made him arrogantly proud that he finally managed to conquer the great Aomine Daiki. Now all it does is make Kise regret ever kissing him in the first place. Instead, all he can feel is the slick liquid heat of Haizaki's tongue sliding across his lips and he'll no longer know what heaven tastes like.

"Of course you do," Nijimura says. "The officers say when they came to, the door to the apartment was wide open and you were sitting in the same spot as you are now. You haven't moved. They say that a man matching Haizaki Shōgo's description assaulted them. You wouldn't happen to know anything about that, would you?"

_'Tell the cops you saw me and I'll kill him.'_

"No," mumbles Kise. He can feel Aomine's scrutinising gaze searing his skin like sunburn but it does nothing to warm the chill permanently settled deep within the knobs of his spine. 

"I noticed a towel bar missing from the bathroom and surprise, I found it out in the living room. Do you know how it got here?" asks Nijimura. 

' _Sh-Shōgo...kun?'_ He can still hear the loud clatter of the towel bar hitting the floor, the sound of his heart pounding in his chest. Haizaki's there, in Momoi's living room wearing a malicious smirk and his eyes gleaming sharp like the edge of a knife. He can't move for a minute, like he's a vulnerable fawn caught in the flood of headlights.

He can't breathe, there's instant panic and the only thing that runs through his mind is that he's going to die. And that's when adrenaline kicks in, and Kise decides he's going to fight for his life instead of having it taken from him. He moves; ducks in so he can grab the towel bar off the floor. His hair casts a golden curtain in front of his face and he's reaching blind and grasping at air. It's a split second before he can feel the smooth steel at his fingertips and before he's had a chance to wrap his hand around it, Haizaki's pulled out a gun and is digging the barrel into his temple.

 _'Drop it,_ ' he says like he's commanding an animal. ' _Or I'll spray your brains all over this pretty sofa.'_

"Kise."

It's Aomine's voice that brings him back to the present; cops murmuring amongst themselves and throwing him looks full of judgment, the snap and flash of cameras documenting useless evidence and the men in white suits dusting black powder over doorknobs and light switches.

"Hm?" Kise blinks and his memory reaches for the questions he might have been asked but all he can recall his the scratch of Haizaki's voice in his ears.

"Where'd the towel bar come from?" Aomine asks, and he sounds like he's trying to be patient but Kise can hear it wearing thin in the other's tone.

"The bathroom," he replies and doesn't elaborate. He watches Aomine rub his hands tiredly over his face. Kise knows the break is coming. It's what he's waiting for.

"We know it came from the bathroom," Aomine snaps. "Did you tear it off the fucking wall or did that piece of sh —"

"Aomine —"

"I heard a noise," Kise supplies. "It scared me so I grabbed the first thing I could think of that would protect me. When I got out here, the door was open and the officers were lying unconscious in front of it."

"And?"

Kise shrugs. "I don't remember."

Nijimura sighs as Aomine turns his back and begins pacing the floor. He's got his hands on his hips and his head bowed and Kise can see the tension knotting in Aomine's shoulders from his position on the sofa.

"Kise-san — we can't help you if you're not honest with us," Nijimura says. He sounds a little softer as if he's coaxing a child out of a lie. "No one thinks you attacked the men at the door. Just tell us what happened after. Was it Haizaki Shōgo?"

"I don't know." But he does.

 _'It's been a while, Ryōta. I've missed ya._ ' The metal is cold against his skin, and Kise can smell oil and something acrid that burns the inside of his nostrils. He's rigid, not a muscle in his body flexes. Everything feels like wires pulled taut, even his lungs have seized.

' _Get up, slowly.'_ He keeps the muzzle pressed into his skin as Kise obeys. He tries to speak, his mind is reeling with questions, but all that comes out is a rush of air. ' _You're not lookin' so hot there, pretty boy.'_

Kise doesn't answer, he chokes down the scorching air smouldering in his throat. Haizaki glides the muzzle down the side of his face, across his cheek and stops when he gets to the corner of his mouth. Kise doesn't want to take a breath, doesn't want to open his mouth to the impending intrusion but he can't hold it in any longer.

 _'Why are you doing this?'_ he asks. It sounds so cliché coming out of his mouth in a high-pitched plea, something only typical of damsels in distress caught by the sadistic serial killers or monsters in bad horror movies but it's the only question Kise really wants to be answered. 

Haizaki's hand tangles in his hair, the other's nails scraping against his scalp, yanking his head back so hard that Kise feared his neck would break. The gunmetal is hot against his lips, stolen from the warmth of Kise's skin. The edge of the barrel hits against his teeth when Haizaki slides it over his bottom lip. His arms are limp at his sides, knees too weak to continue to hold him up for much longer and his heart is beating so fast there's no longer a steady rhythm. All Kise can do is breathe against the barrel of the gun, ignore the bristling hairs on the back of his neck and the sour-slow churning of his stomach and pray that Haizaki doesn't kill him. Though the thought of Haizaki violating him any more than he already has feels like a punishment worse than death.

 _'I wanted to see what_ _happened_ _when somethin' made of glass breaks.'_

"He's not telling us the truth," Kise can hear Nijimura say but there's so much distance between the past and the present that Kise can keep running and running and never catch up.

"Of course he ain't," Aomine says. "He's in fuckin' shock. Look at his face, he fuckin' looks catatonic. Like he did when we brought him in from the bail house murders."

Haizaki's breath is hot against his throat, his lips press against the surging blood rushing rapid through Kise's veins. He can feel the other's malevolent grin spread like slime across his skin when Kise gathers enough courage to grip Haizaki's shoulders and try to pry him off. It only results in Haizaki's hand closing tighter, pulling at the roots so that there's an unpleasant wave of prickling pain riding over his scalp and Kise is forced to cry out. Haizaki takes the opportunity to shove the gun into his mouth, Kise can taste the metallic tang and disgustingly viscous oil against his tongue. It's painful, he thinks it may have cut the roof of his mouth but he's not sure if that's the gun or blood that he's tasting.

' _Shōgo-kun, please don't do this,_ ' Kise whispers, but it's barely audible through the barrier filling his mouth. At this point, he's pleading against the sandpaper-rough tongue that's dragging down his throat, the softness of the other's hair brushing against his chin. It's vile; Kise should be feeling disgust, not a flare of adrenaline spiking into his blood, overriding his fear. The look in Haizaki's eyes is a wild one, a look Kise doesn't want to test the honesty of by struggling against the man with a finger on the trigger of the gun that's on its way down his throat.

' _You know, I always thought you had it made. Good looks, charm, money. Got all the girls and even the guys to fawn over ya, like you were made of gold and jewels and somethin' far more precious that everyone saw but no one knew. Fuck, even me —_ _I don't know if it was 'cause I wanted to take what you had, or take what everyone else wanted.'_   Haizaki's lips move slow and purposely — like he's telling some campfire ghost story and the feeling that it creates is equally chilling. His voice is low, hushed in an octave just above a whisper and vibrates through Kise's body as he continues to talk against the hollow of Kise's throat. ' _But — it doesn't really matter much now. You ruined me either way. Everywhere I go I see your fuckin' mug — on billboards and posters and all over the fuckin' television. Lookin' smug like you know somethin' us common folk don't. Do ya, Ryōta? Do ya know somethin' I don't?'_

Kise shakes his head. He isn't sure what Haizaki is talking about, but whatever it is, Kise hasn't got a clue.

' _I was fine, I could deal with it. I could look the other way, turn off the screen. Whenever I saw you, I'd get hot, you know? My whole skin burned like I was on fire. There was an itch crawlin' under my skin, too. No matter how much I scratched, how much I told myself you didn't fuckin' matter, it didn't go away. But I had it under control.'_

 _He's lost his fucking mind,_ Kise thinks. Nothing Haizaki is saying makes any sense. There was never enough between the two of them to be considered romantic — even unrequited love sounded so far-fetched it was laughable. Jealousy, maybe. But to this extent? Kise supposes a month ago, he could believe it. But this experience has humbled him — Aomine has humbled him; has made him realise what's really important and it isn't fame and fortune.

Haizaki doesn't allow for theorising any longer, he shoves what he can of the gun down Kise's throat. It gags him, causes him to cough and sputter and involuntary tears spring from his eyes. Haizaki laughs and does it again, pushes the barrel so far into Kise's mouth that Kise can feel the brush of the other's knuckles against his lips. He lurches this time, almost enough to bring forth the bile that's been corroding the insides of his throat for the last ten minutes now. Fresh tears soak his lashes, clumping them together and obscuring the view of the other man in front him. Kise shuts his eyes anyway, tries to twist his mouth around the smooth metal in protest, tries to shove at Haizaki's shoulders but all it results in is the other fucking his mouth with the barrel of the gun.

' _Stop_ ,' he pleads in a muffled cry. But all Haizaki does is cackle, hysterical and dry and brittle like it would break if Kise could touch it. 

' _And then you had to come back to Tokyo. You couldn't stay in fuckin' Europe, could you?_ ' He rips the gun from Kise's mouth, and this time for sure, Kise feels the edge of the muzzle tear through the thin layer of membrane. He instantly tastes the blood, feels his mouth fill up with it, but doesn't chance letting it spill over his bruised and swollen lips.

' _Get on your knees,_ ' Haizaki demands, pushing down with the hand still wrapped in Kise's hair. Kise has no other choice but to oblige, his knees and back have been begging to give out from long ago and Haizaki still has the gun pointed at him. 'That's it,' Haizaki grins as Kise eases down on his knees. ' _I really like the fuckin' look of you right now. Does your skin always get that colour when you cry?'_

Haizaki's hand finally loosens in Kise's hair and drops to his chin, drags his thumb through the spittle on Kise's lips. His fingers smell of fire and smoke.

"Did he hurt you?" Aomine asks, and Kise doesn't have to look at him to know he's furious. Kise can't look at him. "Kise — did he... _touch_ you?"

"No," he answers but his voice cracks and bleeds his lie. 

"I want a medic and someone from CSU to have a look at him," Aomine commands to the room, turning away from Kise again. It makes Kise's heart ache, makes him wonder why it's so incredibly painful to witness such a simple action.

"Aomine," whispers Nijimura, nudging the other with his elbow. "You're not supposed to be part of this investigation, remember? Everyone knows it, Captain Harasawa gave them all their orders before we came up here."

"I don't care," Aomine growls. Kise chances a look up through his still stuck-together lashes and Aomine still has his back turned to Kise. Maybe he's already thinking the worst, maybe he already knows. Kise wouldn't want to look at himself either if that's the case. "If Haizaki was here, he's bound to have left some evidence. He touched Kise's face the last time, remember? Maybe this time we got lucky and he left some other..." Aomine's voice trails off. Kise swears he hears the audible swallow of disgust from where he sits on the sofa. "Evidence," Aomine finally says and Kise's stomach lurches like he's going to throw up. 

"He's right," Nijimura announces. "Get CSU to process the victim first, then have a medic examine him. Under no circumstance is he to leave police custody. I want his clothing bagged for evidence. Process him here on scene, that way nothing gets lost in transportation."

This is all he's been reduced to. Some would think he'd be used to being in the spotlight by now, but Kise is nothing but a freak sideshow gawked at by normal people. He'll never be able to get rid of this stain.  He'll be remembered as a victim, or as a killer. Either way, he'll be forever famous.

"Sir, we've scoured the perimeter and there's no sign of anyone matching the perp's description. There are a few officers going door to door and the shops along the strip, but so far there's no luck. We've extended the search to Kabukichō, but it's like the guy's disappeared."

"Jesus — he's not a fucking ghost," Nijimura snaps and that's when Kise is ripped out from wallowing in his self-pity. He's never heard that detective's tone of voice. Cunning and short, sure. But nothing like this. It makes the hair on Kise's neck stand on edge. 

"I'm so fucking sick of this annoying little shit," he continues. He's speaking to the officer who's just announced Haizaki disappearing into the wind, and Aomine, who hasn't turned to look over Kise's shoulder once since he asked, _'Kise — did he..._ touch _you?'_

"I can't believe he's managed to elude us every single time. It's not like we've been sitting on our fucking asses. When I find him, I'm gonna give that sly fucker the beating of his life," the detective says with a little too much amusement for the statement. 

"Not if I find him first," growls Aomine and he storms through the apartment in the direction of the door. Kise expected this.

Nijimura chases after him, not before casting a menacing glare in Kise's direction. "Hey, Aomine —! Wait a minute, you idiot!" 

Everyone stops for a minute to absorb the commotion, and they look back at Kise with expressions that make him feel like he's less than a foot tall and made of extraterrestrial material. If he could shrink into this couch anymore to escape them, he would. Everyone knows, he thinks. Everyone knows about us. And while Kise doesn't care about everyone finding out Shinjuku's most esteemed homicide detective is very gay for Tokyo's most famous male supermodel — he does care that all this information with the added high profile of the case has ruined Aomine and his career and for that he'll never be able to forgive himself.

There's someone photographing the carpet, and another one following with tweezers, picking up fine strands of hair Kise knows are none other than Momoi's and Kuroko's. Maybe his. Maybe Aomine's from their mistake a few nights ago.

' _I had the perfect plan, Ryōta, had everythin' planned out. It was only meant to be that one guy — your roommate. All I wanted to see you do was break a little. You were this pretty little thing that I wanted to destroy with my own hands.'_

Kise can't move, it's like he's watching this moment animated from someone else's eyes. The truth was always there, _Aomine_ knew it was him. But hearing it said out loud by that very man, the one who kissed him back in college, the one who he competed with and thought it nothing but healthy rivalry. He never thought that Haizaki had taken modelling serious — but that isn't what he's saying, is it? No. Haizaki's in front of Kise with fingers in his mouth and gun pointed to his head because Haizaki wanted something he couldn't have; blurring the lines between jealousy and lust — he wanted Kise — and he wanted to _be_ Kise.

' _I had the perfect plan,'_ Haizaki repeats. ' _But that fuckin' cop ruined everything. I bet you let him fuck you too, huh?  You let that foul pig climb inside your body and ruin it _—'  
__

Kise's mouth drops open and his cheeks flare hot, his tongue works around Haizaki's fingers to form protest and he catches the other shuddering with the motion. ' _That's not —'_

' _It doesn't matter,_ ' Haizaki snarls, digging the metal into Kise's temple. He rips his fingers from Kise's mouth, wipes the spit away with his thumb. Kise watches in disgust as the other brings his hand to his mouth and drags his tongue over the same thumb while he grins; the sharp glint in his eyes stabs Kise in the chest but the curl of Haizaki's lips turn his stomach. ' _What matters is that you're mine now.'_

Gun pressed against his head or not, Kise's adrenaline soars and the anger he feels starts to scorch underneath his skin. He glares at Haizaki with defiance, challenging him to pull that fucking trigger and put an end to all of this. ' _What did you think was going to happen? That I would — like you after this? That we would be what _—_ together?' _ He makes sure to laugh, sour and sardonic with every bit of animosity he can muster. _'What a fucking joke. What do you_ want _from me?!'  
_

Haizaki scoffs, moves the gun from  Kise's head for a moment so he can use it to lift Kise's chin. Despite Kise's response in hopes of angering him, Haizaki seems surprisingly calm and when he looks at Kise it's like he's viewing the other with awe and admiration as if Kise were a piece of expensive art. _'I want to watch you suffer. I want to taste the failure and despair off your lips when your whole world crashes. I don't give a shit about anythin' else.'_

And just like that, Haizaki shoves a hand into his hair and tugs, vicious and angry but when he leans over to press his lips to Kise's, it's with a tentative tenderness that makes Kise sick to his stomach. Haizaki's tongue fans over his lips, Kise keeps them pressed shut and tries to pull away. The other huffs a laugh and it's all over, Haizaki's straightening himself upright and releasing the vice grip he has on Kise's hair.

_'I gotta get outta here before these pigs wake up — but if they come after me — if you tell them I was here — I'll kill your friends. If you let that bastard touch you again, I'll kill him. It's all over, Ryōta. You're mine now, and you better think about that every single time you look in a fuckin' mirror.'_

He hears the words but Kise checks out. He's utterly confused, flustered and exhausted. There isn't anything he can do, the other is insane and he's seen the proof more than enough times. He's lucky then, that Aomine and his friends are alive and there's no way he's going to defy Haizaki to test his sincerity. When Kise looks over, with the hope that maybe the police slumped over the threshold will wake and seize the other before he can disappear into the city to wreak havoc once again, Haizaki's turning to leave. Kise doesn't follow him. The only thing he's thinking of is how he'd rather be dead than have to face Aomine, Kuroko or Momoi ever again.

  _'Oh, Ryōta —'_ Haizaki sounds almost gleeful like he's getting pleasure from the sight of Kise on his knees, hair a mess and cheeks burning and caked in salty grit. _'I'll be back to catch you when you finally  fall.'_


	25. Chapter 25

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm really sorry about this chapter being so short, but I couldn't think of anything else to fit into it. I promise things are going to get better sdjgfkjds
> 
> Also, I am really really sorry about the long time in between updates! Things should be getting back on track soon. Thanks to everyone who's stuck with me this far, you're all amazing <3

**XXV**

* * *

 

Nijimura's warnings echo in the stairwell, his voice rings off the metal railings Aomine holds on to as he runs down the stairs to the lobby of the apartment building. It doesn't matter anymore, Aomine knows he's beyond logical thought and nothing Nijimura has to say will get him to take a step back and make a reasonable move. It's too late for that. He was here, inside the apartment and Kise won't say what Haizaki did, but he did something and it's written all over Kise's face.

Each step he flies down takes him closer to Haizaki and further away from Kise's dead eyes, bruised and swollen lips and pallid skin; an image that will haunt his dreams for a long time, he's sure. Aomine's chest is tight, like the air he should be expelling is trapped under the jagged lump lodged in his throat. It burns as if there were a star going supernova too large for the confines of his rib cage to contain.

For a fleeting moment, he wishes he could have gone back to the time where Kise was nothing but a distant memory, nothing but a dull ache of what ifs and could have beens.

Nijimura catches up to him as he's about the exit the stairwell, the nearly excruciating pain of fingers closing around his bicep is enough to take pause and pull him out of his own thoughts.

"Look — I know you want to catch this guy, Aomine but if we don't do things by the book it'll be no good!"

Aomine whirls around to face his partner and wrenches his arm free of Nijimura's iron grip. "It won't matter, Nijimura! When I catch the fucker, he's as good as dead!"

"I'm going to pretend I didn't hear you say that," growls Nijimura, his brows furrowing into a deep scowl that only highlight the sharp steel of his eyes. "You're letting your personal feelings cloud your judgment, Daiki. Don't be a fucking idiot. If you murder this guy, everything you've worked for _including_ your relationship. Wake _up_ , man."

"Don't tell me you believe that our justice system isn't corrupt! You know that there's a chance that Haizaki will get out on a technicality or some bullshit! He's a member of the Kurokawa-kai, dammit! He's a cold-blooded murderer. He's killed dozens of people, he's tried to murder my friends and he's tormenting Kise. Everything this guy touches turns to shit. I can't let him live."

There's a hollowing bang that resounds through the stairwell; it sounds like a gunshot but it's the sound of Nijimura's hand slamming against the fire door. It makes his heart jump; racing with fear, surprise and adrenaline. 

The echoes stop and everything is eerily silent for a moment but the shrill metallic vibration still rings painfully in Aomine's ears.  "Niji—!"

Nijimura grits his teeth, Aomine can feel the anger radiating off the other like heat. He's inches away from Aomine's face now, his eyes narrow and piercing. "That's enough," he says, the sound rumbling low in his throat. "You're my partner and you're our sergeant. If you fall apart, the whole precinct will be in shambles. You're supposed to be our leader, our pinnacle of justice. Not some selfish prick gung-ho on vigilantism and personal vendettas. Get it together, Aomine. What we need is to regroup. Let's go back to the station and put our heads together. Haizaki isn't smarter than us and there is a lot of evidence we aren't looking at because we're so hellbent on catching this guy —"

"But we don't have time," Aomine insists. "You want —"

"No," Nijimura interjects, finally taking his hand from the door and straightening himself out. "That's not what I want. But the fact of the matter is, if Haizaki is going to kill again, he's going to regardless of time. We can go at this half-assed and frantic like we have been or go back to the drawing board and figure out his next move. You _know_ this, Aomine."

Aomine doesn't agree or disagree but he relents all the same. He follows Nijimura out of the building, listens as he gives orders to the uniformed officers to check all surrounding areas and the security around Kise doubled, including an escort back to the station. Hearing Kise's name makes Aomine glance up at the eleventh floor; pain and frustration resurface, he's never felt so lost and angry and helpless all at once.  He's not sure where this leads him and Kise, but one thing he knows is that he's going to catch this son of a bitch dead or alive whether Nijimura and the law like it or not -- and put an end to Kise's suffering. 


	26. Chapter 26

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, it's me. I'm back again. I'm so sorry that this took forever.

**XXVI**

* * *

 

It takes a while for Aomine to finally focus when they get back to the station.

Before doing anything else, he finds that his shaky legs have carried him to the bathroom where the dark corners hide the war-paint of insomnia smudged under his eyes and the fluorescents bathe his dark skin in a sickly jaundiced glow. The longer he stares at his reflection, the more detached from reality he becomes. He can’t stop the room from spinning or the ground from giving way beneath him and within seconds, Aomine’s legs give out and although dulled, his reflexes allow him to grasp onto the cold ceramic ledge of the sink to keep himself from crumbling to the floor.

He can’t stop himself from seeing Kise, face stained with tears and lips broken and bruised. His cataract-clouded gaze, distant and unseeing as if he were remembering a nightmare; the quivering and shattered sound of his voice trembling as if he were retelling one.

_Get it together Daiki!_

He shakes his head as if it'll rid him of the imagery stamped permanently to his memory; scolds himself as if it’d do any good. If he can't get up, if he can't move on then he's useless to the men waiting for him outside _—_ he's useless to Kise.

So Aomine reaches out a hand to turn the faucet, ducks in to splash cold water on his face. It feels good; refreshing and jarring all at once. It gives him time to catch his breath and steel his thoughts just long enough to start going over the list of evidence in his head. Once he's breathed several breaths and the room no longer feels like it's closing in on him, Aomine straightens himself out and clears his throat before heading out into the pen. He might not be lead anymore but he can help them _—_ he _needs_ to help them and all he has to do is keep a level head.

When he turns the corner, he’s stalled in his tracks. His entire squad awaits him, standing with their shoulders back and their heads held high. It’s quiet and they’re all looking at Aomine with pride and expectation. In front of them stands Nijimura with a grin too wide for his otherwise serious expressions. Aomine can feel the heat rising in his cheeks and he struggles to find words that sum up his surprise. Instead, he ends up clearing his throat awkwardly and taking a shaky step into the pen. When no one says anything, not even Nijimura, Aomine’s skin flares even hotter and his chest swells even bigger until he feels like a hot air balloon ready to explode.

“What… What are you all doing here?” he manages, trying to make it a demand for an answer rather than a soft and unexpectant request.

“What does it look like?” Nijimura asks, gesturing to the men and women behind him. “The Shinjuku Homicide Unit is awaiting command, _Sergeant_.” When he raises his hand, Aomine can see a glint of gold and before he can make out what it is, Nijimura is tossing the object in his direction.

He catches it flawlessly, an action as natural as breathing as are all his reflexes and skills honed by many years of basketball and police training.

He doesn’t have to open his clenched fist to know what he’s holding. Against his palm he can feel the smooth outline of the numbers, the insignia of their police department etched into the metal and a title embossed across it that holds more weight than the badge itself. But it isn’t a bad thing, no. This title reminds him of his accomplishments, why he’s here and most importantly,  _who he is._ Aomine takes a breath and it catches in his chest. There's nothing; no words he can think of to explain the level of elation he feels in this moment; the relief of having his job back and his faith renewed in the justice system. He's been given a second chance. That Captain Harasawa is handing over the reins because he still _trusts_ him.

When he opens his mouth, no sound comes out. He closes it, speechless and staring out into the crowd of men and women waiting for him to lead them. Aomine's never felt so much pressure before in all his years of being a detective. He's never _not_ caught the bad guy and he should have confidence that this case will turn out the same except there is no room for error this time. This time he _can't_ fail, there are too many lives at stake. The citizens of this city he swore to protect; Tetsu and Satsuki and their unborn baby. To protect _Kise._

With that thought, he draws a deep breath and breaks the expectant silence, his voice clinging the authoritative tone intended.

“Okay. Let's start with establishing a timeline,” Aomine begins, walking over to the whiteboard stationed in the opposite corner of the room. There are notes and clippings and photographs scattered across the surface, no real order to their placement. Just details put together in a frenzy reminiscent of their behaviour on this case. He picks apart the photos, newspaper clippings, jot-notes and rap sheets and sets them down on a desk beside him. Next, he clears the entire board with a dry eraser, gaining confused murmurs from the company behind him.

“By now I expect all of you to have memorised every detail of this case. Each one of you has been given the task of taking down statements, collectin’ evidence and reports and findin’ new leads. That is our job in any case, this one isn't any different. True, it's not like any other case we've dealt with; the magnitude of deaths on a single case alone and the lack of evidence is disconcertin’ but we can't let that discourage us and throw us outta order. We're a team and we need to start actin’ like one.” Aomine takes a breath and turns to face the officers, he quickly scans the room and tries not to hold anyone's gaze for too long. What he's about to say isn't easy for him and the less telling judgement he reads from other's stares, the better.

“I will admit… that my judgement has been clouded several times on this case and I'm... I'm sorry for that. That ain't how a leader is supposed to lead, that ain't how an officer of the law should behave. But we all have the same objective, we all have the same purpose. To protect the people of our city; to keep it safe and thriving and apprehend the ones that threaten it. So let's straighten out; let's buckle down and focus on what we know."

“Haizaki Shōgo,” Nijimura picks up, turning to face the room, “is now our main suspect. However, Kise Ryōta… is still a person of interest in this case.”

Aomine notices the other detective’s eyes shift to gauge his reaction and despite Aomine believing that Kise is innocent, he still has to look at this case as if it were any other. “There is conflicting evidence that puts a man matching Kise Ryōta's description with Haizaki Shōgo at the Yellow Jasmine the night before the murders.”

Nijimura slides a case file off his desk and opens it, pulling out a grainy photograph. It's the surveillance footage of the Yellow Jasmine gathered after the fire. The one of Kise and Haizaki. He attaches it to the whiteboard. “Here you can clearly see a man of roughly the same height and build as Kise, as well as the same hair colour. Sato, you took witness statements from the club. Were there any mentions of a man matching Kise Ryōta's description in their reports or was anyone able to identify this man as Kise?”

The man scratches at his large, round stomach before pulling a notebook from his shirt pocket. “I don't recall,” he says, flipping through it. “Didn't really get much from 'em other than they saw the suspect, Kise Ryōta, at the club with his entourage and a woman we later identified as Kobayashi Sachiko. No one’s said anythin’ about seein’ a guy like him in the club before that.”

“It's a club run by yakuza,” Nakamura chimes in, adjusting his thick-framed glasses. “They're not going to rat out one of their own.”

“No,” Aomine says, pointing to mug shots of the yakuza picked up from the club. “However their leader _will_ give us valuable information. I've discovered Imayoshi's weakness and I intend to exploit it.”

Nakamura and Sato exchange glances before Sato puts his notebook back in his pocket.

“Good luck with that,” Sato says. “Shouldn't we be focusin’ on the evidence we already have?”

“Everything is circumstantial at best,” Nakamura says. “There's been no physical evidence putting Haizaki at any of the murder scenes.”

“There _has_ been evidence of Kise at each one,” adds Sato.

“Yeah but there’s been no physical evidence that Kise is the perpetrator either. Like Nakamura said, the evidence we have is just circumstantial. What we _do_ have,” Aomine says, opening another case file off his own desk, “is proof that there were high levels of GHB in Kise Ryōta's system the night of the first murders.”

Sato snorts. “That doesn't tell us anythin’ but that he was high.”

“No,” Nijimura interjects. “It tells us that he was drugged. Kise admitted to smoking marijuana, snorting cocaine and drinking over twice the legal limit that night. There'd be no reason to lie about taking GHB as well. Not to mention when inspecting Kise's body for evidence after the second string of murders, technicians found minor bruising around the injection site – a vein located at the base of the neck. Not a typical place you'd inject yourself with drugs.”

Sato rolls his eyes, Nakamura shifts uneasily on his feet. Aomine watches the other officers’ behaviour yet they all seem to be watching and listening intently.

“Haizaki has a motive,” Aomine says. “Kise Ryōta admits to having a personal relationship with the suspect in university _—_ ”

“What about your relationship?” asks Sato, crossing his arms over his chest. “It ain't a secret that you have some kind of homo _—_ ”

“Sato!” growls Nijimura, taking a step towards the bigger man as if he were preparing for a fight, fists clenched at his sides.

Aomine moves towards Nijimura, clamping a hand down over the other's shoulder. “It's fine,” he says, lips curling into their habitual sneer. “If IAB and the rest of the department — as well as our _captain —_ sees me fit to work this case despite my _homo_ relationship, then surely yer small mind can handle that, right?”

Sato huffs protest, opens his mouth to say something but Nakamura puts a hand on the other's shoulder and shakes his head in disagreement. “I'm just sayin’, how do we know your opinion ain't biased.”

“Because I'm a cop,” Aomine says, folding his arms across his chest. “And I made an oath to protect this city _—_ ”

“Yeah, you and the other corrupted fuckers that all have a spot on the yakuza’s payroll,” jeers Sato, pointing a thick, pudgy finger at him.

“Sato, that's enough,” warns Nakamura.

“Speakin’ for yourself?” Aomine waits for an answer but instead the other detective scowls and rather than opening his mouth for another slew of accusations, he falls silent on a pout and says nothing more. “If anyone else has a problem with me leading the team, feel free to leave now. My objective is to get a serial killer off our streets. I ain't got time for anythin’ else.” Aomine looks pointedly at Sato but the man doesn't say another word nor does he move towards the exit. None of the officers do.

“Jesus, now can we get on with the fucking evidence?” asks Nijimura, shooting Sato a warning glance. After no objections, Nijimura proceeds. “What we do know is that the main suspects for this case were Kise Ryōta and Haizaki Shōgo. Haizaki seems to be working on his own, therefore the yakuza family _Kurokawa-kai_ and their boss, Imayoshi Shōichi, have been eliminated from this particular investigation. Two days ago, the Yellow Jasmine burned down, the fire department’s investigation has concluded it was arson. The following day Sergeant Aomine investigated an explosion at Lady Luck, a pachinko parlour in Kabukichō apparently run by Haizaki Shōgo and co-accused, Kobayashi Sachiko under the pretence of a married couple _—_ ”

“Any suspects in this arson case or are we lookin’ at Haizaki for this too?” interrupts Sato.

Nakamura looks over at Sato, puzzled like he can't understand the means to his question and then shifts his gaze over to Aomine. “This isn't Haizaki's MO,” he says, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose with the palm of his hand. “Is it? Why would he kill Kobayashi —”

“Why wouldn't he kill the prostitute?” snorts Sato. Aomine watches as his glare directed at Nakamura flickers from indignation to malevolence. “She's the only one with a mouth big enough to rat his fuckin’ crazy ass out.”

“Actually,” interjects Aomine, hoping to prevent another argument and keep the flow of Nijimura's briefing, “you're both right. It isn't Haizaki's MO, no, but Sato’s also got a point. It makes sense that he'd wanna get rid of the only witness that knows what he's been up to. Just 'cause he ain't a fire starter, don't mean he didn't give the orders.”

“Do you have a suspect for who did?” pipes one of the other officers from the group.

“Yes. We're currently looking for Saruwatari Kentarō, whose said to have looked after Lady Luck while Haizaki isn't available and was also a suspect in several fires _—_ ”

“I remember them,” Sato says. “I was the investigator on that case. There was no evidence that tied ‘im to any of the fires, had to let 'im go.”

“Anyway,” Aomine sighs, ignoring Sato's interruption, “that's who we're lookin’ for in regards to the fires. He is valuable to our investigation, he might know the location of Haizaki _—_ ”

“Um, e-excuse me… Aomine-san.”

It's a small voice from behind the crowd, a hand raised in the air that belongs to a body Aomine can't see. In it is a manilla folder.

“Sorry for the interruption, but I have the coroner’s report for the woman found in the explosion.”

“Step forward,” commands Nijimura, exchanging looks of surprise with Aomine.

The man who works his way through the crowd looks familiar, Aomine thinks as he tries searching his memory for recollection. He’s short compared to most of the men here, small in stature with plain features and brown hair. Despite Aomine trying, he can’t remember this man’s name.

“That was fast,” Aomine comments, reaching out to take the folder.

“The woman has been identified through dental records,” he says with a nod and Aomine makes note of the way his hand trembles when the folder exchanges hands. “The heat from the explosion must have risen to above one-thousand degrees Celsius because the teeth had shrunk _—_ b-but only slightly! Once given a list of who the victim could be, we were able to contact the dentists for lists of records pertaining to each name.”

 _He’s nervous yet when he talks about the facts he seems calm and collected. Everyone's listening now._ “Oh? Is it Kobayashi Sachiko?”

“Yes, sir. She had two gold crowns; one on the lower first molar and the other on the upper right second bicuspid, which made it easier for identification. The work was done quite recently too and because of that, the damage caused by the heat to the crowns was minimal.”

“Furihata-san, was the coroner able to determine cause of death?” asks Nijimura.

 _Furihata Kōki,_ Aomine’s mind shouts at him. He had been the one to hand over video evidence earlier on in the case. He can remember the timidness of the other, the way he stuttered around words but later became confident as he spoke more about the work itself.

“Yes, uh —”

“Well we ain’t got no leads — now what?” growls Sato, his voice seeming to carry louder this time.

“Shut up,” Aomine snaps, glaring at the other detective. “The cause of death could be a lead, idiot, but we won’t know what it is if you can’t keep yer fuckin’ mouth shut.” He shifts his gaze back to Furihata and for a minute the technician winces and seems to draw back but Aomine does his best to try to soften out before telling Furihata to continue.

“R-right. As I was saying, the woman has been identified as Kobayashi Sachiko, age twenty-five. No next of kin, no spouse to be notified. Documented cause of death was a fatal gunshot wound to the head, entering through the front-centre area of the skull and exiting through the occipital bone.” Furihata uses his hands to display the trajectory of the bullet. “With the extent of damage done to the skull and the stippling patterns on the fragments we found and cleaned, we were able to determine that the victim was shot close range."

“ _What_ — execution style?” suggests Nijimura, surprise laced in his tone.

Suddenly the ghost of Kobayashi’s voice haunts Aomine’s ears. _“I have big dreams, Nijimura-san.”_ He can't help but feel a pang of regret. She didn't deserve to die like that.

“What about the bullet? The gun? Ballistics?” asks Sato.

"It was a through and through," Furihata answers, clearing his throat.

“I haven’t heard anything from Kagami yet and the captain overseeing the investigation is out of commission at the moment, as is half their team," Aomine adds. “Has CSU managed to get in there?”

“So far they haven’t recovered any evidence that would be of use,” Furihata frowns. “Nor have they found the bullet. With the extreme heat of the blast, it may have been destroyed, therefore may never be recovered.”

“Well you can measure the bullet wound, can you not? That can at least help us narrow down the calibre,” Nijimura points out.

“Ah yes. We can try but because there are many variables involved, it will be difficult to determine the exact calibre. I'll have someone take a look right away but I was told you needed this report as soon as possible.”

"I got a question," Sato barks. "It was an explosion, right? How'd the body survive the blast?"

Furihata bites his bottom lip. "It didn't... there are pieces of that woman still being brought to us as CSU and the fire department continue to sift through the wreckage. We were lucky enough to receive the skull first."

"So how can ya know if that's the cause of death? Coulda been some other projectile that caused the wound, coulda been some other cause of death before the shot to the head."

"The cause of death is unmistakenly the result of a gunshot wound to the head at close range. I'm not a ballistics expert but we've recovered enough evidence that the coroner is confident in COD."

“That's good. Thank you, Furihata-san.”

Furihata takes his leave with a short nod and bow and Aomine notices suddenly how the air in the room has changed. It seems different, calmer and under control. It must be because his suspicions were validated and that the evidence they have against Haizaki is getting stronger. He has Furihata and the team that works the hardest to thank for that.

“Kobayashi's death was meant to silence her, the fire was meant to cover it up. Guns aren't Haizaki's choice of weapon, but he _is_ yakuza so he has access to millions of unregistered firearms.” Aomine's thinking out loud and the room's silence allows him to continue. He feels like he's on to something, there's a clue within reach that will solve everything.

“Nijimura — the mass murder that happened while I was in Nagasaki _—_ how many victims and what was the cause of their deaths?”

“There was eleven victims in total, all members of Kise-san’s modelling agency. There was a note left at the scene demanding Kise in exchange for keeping Haizaki's next target, Kasamatsu Yukio, safe.”

“Kasamatsu… Yukio?”

“Kise's agent. He wasn't there of course since we have him in protective custody,” answers Nijimura.

“Are you sure he's still safe?” asks Aomine, raising a skeptical brow. Haizaki always seems to be a step ahead of them.

“Yes, we confirmed Kasamatsu-san’s safety shortly after we cleared the scene,” Nakamura says. “He's not happy being on lockdown, though.”

“Well his only other option is being dead, so he can suck it up,” quips Sato.

Aomine rolls his eyes for what feel like the nth time this hour. “Nijimura, how was each victim killed?”

Sato mumbles something under his breath before saying, “You really gonna go through each of their COD’s? We'll be here all fuckin’ day.”

“First of all, regardless of how long it takes, if it's important to the case we'll stay here for a fuckin' month if we have to. Secondly, I wasn't askin’ you for your input, so you can shove it up your fat ass,” Aomine snaps. It's getting harder to keep his composure as his agitation starts to boil the blood in his veins.

“What did you just fucking say, you bastard?” He rushes forward as far as Nakamura lets him before Nijimura throws himself in the middle.

“Enough! Sato, what is your _problem_?! No _—_ you know what, I don't need an answer. This isn't getting us anywhere.”

“Tell this high and mighty prick that. He's out here thinkin’ he can do whatever he wants. Didja fuck yer way to the top? How many IAB members didja suck off to _—_ ”

Before Aomine has the chance to put force behind the punch intended for Sato's jaw, the entire room grows colder and time seems to creep uncomfortably slow, like sludge under a thick sheet of ice. Tension clings to the air and suddenly Aomine's lungs don't want to work.

It happens so fast that Aomine wouldn't have caught it if time wasn't moving the way it was. He can actually feel the pull in his eyes as they shift to the new body that enters the room and as they follow Akashi's inhuman movements. The district attorney is in front of Sato within seconds and as Nijimura turns towards him, Sato falls to his knees. Aomine doesn't understand how; he didn't see anyone hit Sato and his own flst still hasn't made its way forward from its drawn back position, yet surely Sato had dropped heavily to the floor.

Time speeds up quick then. A blast of icy air bristles the hair on Aomine's neck and sends a shudder down his spine. Akashi stands in front of Sato with his arms crossed, feet planted firmly to the tile. He's shorter than many of the men in this room yet Aomine feels this strange sensation of having to look up to the other man as if he and the other officers in this room were also somehow forced to their knees.

“Know your place, Sato-san. You are insulting your department and the Internal Affairs Bureau, as well as your captain and commanding officer. Your lack of respect and accusations disgust me, as does your ability as an officer. You are a gluttonous man, your work ethic is unproductive and slothful yet you are here disrespecting your superior.”

Aomine can't see Akashi from where he's standing but he can see the attorney's malicious stare in the reflection of each of the officers’ eyes. His arm drops limply at his side but the rest of his body is rigid. Nijimura is frozen in place too, caught somewhere between a crouch and a pivot, arms still stretched out like he's getting ready to break up a fight. It would look comical under any other circumstance. No one else is moving, Aomine doesn't even think they're breathing. Silence stretches across the space and the only thing Aomine is aware of is the echoing tick of the clock that ensures him time is indeed still moving.

“You are only mediocre at best,” Akashi continues, a tone so cold the chill seeps into Aomine's bones. “Go home, you're done for the day. You've embarrassed yourself and your sergeant enough.”

Aomine expects an indignant response but Sato nods slowly, Akashi steps back and the detective rises from the floor with a look of confusion. The world seems to whirl back into motion, Aomine becomes aware of phones ringing and people talking. Nijimura moves back to the drawing board and he only glances at Aomine for a short time but his eyes are wide and round with surprise. Everyone, including Akashi, watches as Sato walks out of the room slow and steady but Aomine can see the angry tension in the man's shoulders and the way his fists are clenched at his sides.

“Now you may continue, Nijimura-san.”

The room's oppressive atmosphere seems to have lifted, the tingling currents snapping under Aomine's skin have ceased and he can finally use his lungs again. Nijimura seems the least affected by whatever just happened.

“Thank you, Akashi-san,” he says, clearing his throat. His hands move to his hips and he turns so that he's facing the squad. He draws in a breath before beginning again. “As I was saying, each of the victims were killed in similar fashion to those at the bail house and the last victim of the model house, Hijikata Naoji. Each of them was either stabbed or had their throats cut, leaving them to bleed out. They were then dismembered with their body parts put on display. CSU has matched the kerf marks found on the tissue and bone to your everyday garden variety chainsaw. Not only would Haizaki come out of these locations looking like he bathed in blood, he'd also be wielding a chainsaw."

"Same weapon each time?" asks Nakamura.

"Yes."

“How?” Aomine questions, “How did he manage to subdue eleven people, murder them and dismember them without alerting anyone?”

Nijimura shrugs. “The security cameras outside the warehouse were all smashed in like before. It seems like they were in the middle of setting up a photo shoot when Haizaki showed up. Since we know that Kobayashi died from a gunshot wound, perhaps we can assume that Haizaki went in waving a gun, rounded them all up and killed them all one by one.”

“Wait  _—_ are you suggesting that as well as carrying a chainsaw, he was carrying a gun as well?" asks one of the officers.

"No, that's not what I'm suggesting. Perhaps he left the chainsaw in his car, left after he killed everyone and returned with it to dismember them," Nijimura replies.

"Well if he had a gun, why'd he use a knife?" 

"Maybe the gun would have made too much noise," adds another officer.

Someone scoffs. "But the chainsaw wouldn't?"

"These are all possible,” says Nakamura, “but if they were preparing for a photo shoot, wouldn't their clients have shown up to the warehouse at some point? It would have taken Haizaki hours to dismember eleven bodies, even with a chainsaw. Then he left the scene without drawing any attention to himself which means he had time to clean himself up and hide the murder weapons either within the perimeter of the warehouse or on his person. And this was in broad daylight.”

Aomine nods. “He's getting braver. Still, it doesn't make sense.”

“What doesn't make sense?” asks Akashi, speaking for the first time since Sato left. Aomine had been so wrapped up in the evidence that he had forgotten the attorney was there.

“The night before the first murders, Haizaki is seen at the Yellow Jasmine with a man matchin’ the description of Kise Ryōta. The following night, Kobayashi drugs Kise and takes him back to the hotel while Haizaki murders his roommates. A couple of days go by and no murders are committed until Kise leaves the penitentiary. Up to this point, we're still unsure of Kise's innocence despite it bein’ obvious that he's being targeted. We assume it's because Kise may be a very good actor, however, he is let go into the custody of Kuroko Satsuki and her husband. At the time of these murders, Kise is in Nagasaki with me after finding out that our friends were in a serious accident _—_ ”

“It wasn’t an accident,” Akashi interjects, folding his arms across his chest.

“What?”

“I said it wasn’t an accident. What you’ve failed to relay to your captain and squadron as well as myself, is that Kuroko Tetsuya and Kuroko Satsuki's critical injuries were sustained because of foul play. Someone had tampered with their break line and engine, causing the accident. Upon further investigation, a threatening note with a warning addressed to you was found under the seat of their car.”

More murmurs of judgement coming from his squad as Aomine’s heart picks up pace. “How… how do you know that?”

“Two detectives from Nagasaki by the names of Himuro Tatsuya and Murasakibara Atsushi spoke with your captain this morning. They wanted to know if there were any more leads in their case and if you intended on coming back for an interview. I’ve told you how I feel about you withholding evidence, Daiki.”

“I wasn’t withholdin’ anything. I haven’t had time to fuckin’ breathe since I’ve been back. And anyway, there was no evidence in their case that pointed to any suspects but it does prove Kise’s innocence _—_ ”

“It doesn’t, not really. Not if the vehicle was tampered with before they left for Nagasaki,” Nakamura points out.

“But Kise was with Aomine during the agency murders, so it couldn’t have been him,” Nijimura counters, "which is what Seargent Aomine is trying to say."

“That's right. The explosion couldn’t have been Kise either,” Aomine says. “During that time he had been with _—_ ” He pauses, can’t bring himself to say the name associated with Kise’s broken lips and dead eyes from earlier.

“Haizaki Shōgo,” Akashi fills in for him. Aomine shudders. “It only proves they were together afterwards. Haizaki arrived at the apartment after the explosion according to the officers’ statements.”

“So where does this leave us?” asks an officer from the crowd.

“Yeah, I’m confused,” chimes another.

“Well… We have several different things going on here. If we assume Haizaki is our serial killer, then Kobayashi’s murder — as well as the tampering of Kuroko-san’s car — aren’t his MO,” Nijimura says.

“Which would mean there are two perpetrators,” adds Nakamura. “But the timeline is all sketchy and we can’t pin who is where at any given time.”

“Then there are more than two unsubs?” asks the confused officer.

“Impossible,” Akashi says. “If there were that many, one of two scenarios would happen. The first would be a group far more orchestrated than this. The second would be one or more of them slipping up and becoming sloppy. Neither one of these is happening since what we’re looking at is organised chaos.”

“Right,” agrees Aomine. “There are mistakes being made all over the place yet this guy is skilled enough not to leave any incriminatin’ evidence behind all while managing to elude us. He kills masses of people at a time in gruesome ways, gainin’ attention from the media. He taunts me an' the police with bad jokes and nursery rhymes. If his target is Kise, he’s had multiple opportunities to kill him yet hasn’t. All this leads to the conclusion that perp A is a psychopath. Then you have the accident in Nagasaki, the fires in Kabukichō and Kobayashi’s murder via gunshot wound to the head."

“If we ignore the timeline, the behaviour of each incident differs too much for it to be one single person,” Nijimura observes. “We know that Haizaki is involved, but which one is he?”

“There’s been something bugging me that I haven’t really put too much thought into until now,” Nakamura says, voice unsteady as he pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “I’m not saying you’re wrong, Aomine-san, but if Haizaki is the psychopath, why not kill the two officers at their posts outside Kuroko-san’s apartment instead of just knocking them out?”

“Maybe he didn’t have the time?” suggests Nijimura.

“He wasn’t worried about time,” Aomine snorts. “He knew Kise was alone. Not to mention the officers were pistol-whipped, which proves that Haizaki had a gun on him when he showed up at the apartment, right after he shot Kobayashi and had someone else cover up the murder for him. That explains that.”

“How do you explain him being in several places at once then?” asks Akashi.

“Or the man matching Kise’s description in the photograph taken the night before the murders?”

Aomine’s silent for a long time. He doesn’t know. He can’t explain it. He’s not sure how Haizaki is managing to pull off all this on his own. The only explanation he has was that Kobayashi may have been helping him but there’s no way to prove that now. “I… I can’t,” he says finally with a defeated sigh he didn’t intend on breathing. “With all the evidence we have now, there’s no way we’d be able to make a case against Haizaki. We need to catch him and bring him in.”

Akashi laughs. “Do you really think it’s going to be that easy? A man with a mind like Haizaki’s isn’t going to allow himself to be caught and imprisoned. He’s likely going to do something drastic that will result in his death. Most mass murderers do.”

“Wouldn’t that defeat the purpose?” asks Nakamura. “I mean, he’s after Kise. If he knows we’re closing in on him, wouldn’t his next move be to kill Kise?”

“But Kise is here,” points out Nijimura. “So what _would_ his next move be?”

“The police station, perhaps. If he managed to blow up a pachinko parlour, there’s nothing saying he won’t target the precinct next. Two birds, one stone,” surmises Akashi.

“We need to bring in Saruwatari Kentarō,” Aomine says. “Since we assume Haizaki isn't the Lady Luck bomber, then getting Saruwatari off the streets ensures our safety for now. He may also know the whereabouts of Haizaki and might be willin’ to flip on him if he's threatened with Kobayashi's murder as well as the murders of the bystanders killed in the explosion.”

“That's a start,” Nijimura agrees.

“Nakamura… since Sato's out for the night, take a rookie with you and start combing the streets for Saruwatari. Start asking around if anyone's seen him since the explosion,” commands Aomine.

“Yes, sir.”

Akashi grins, interest spreading eerily in his grin. “And what will you do, Daiki?”

Aomine’s lips splay into a grin of his own as he clips his badge to his belt. “I'm gonna go pay a visit to Imayoshi. He might not be able to give us information on Haizaki workin’ alone but he knows _somethin'_. Maybe the identity of the mystery man from the Yellow Jasmine.”

“I'm coming with you,” Nijimura says, grabbing his jacket off a nearby chair.

“I will as well,” Akashi announces. “This is going to be interesting.”


	27. Chapter 27

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow am I ever sorry this took me so long to work out. I just want to thank all you guys who have stuck by me and the newer fans who have helped keep me motivated. If it wasn't for you, I have no idea if I'd ever come back to this fic again. With that being said, I've already got chapter 28 in the works so let's hope it doesn't take another year for me to update huh? 
> 
> I hope you enjoy the new chapter!

  **XXVII**

* * *

 

Kise can still taste the gunmetal on his tongue hours after the fact. He’s done everything the police have allowed him to do after they collected their evidence, down to eating a half a tube of toothpaste and drinking more than three-quarters of a pot of coffee. It’s probably psychological at this point which means there’s no running from the way he shudders when he recalls the shape of the gun through the inside of his cheek or the way his skin tingles when Haizaki’s breath ghosts against his neck.

He picks aimlessly at a loose thread on the dreadful beige jumpsuit he’s grown too familiar with. Everything is such a fucking mess and he can’t even get a decent outfit to wear. He doesn’t remember the last time he’s felt the comfort of his own clothing against his skin. What he wouldn’t do to feel the threads of Brunello Cucinelli or hell, even Abercrombie & Fitch at this point. Kise chokes out a mirthless chuckle.

Kaori stops speaking and looks at him in disbelief. “Something funny?”

“No,” Kise snaps after a few seconds of uncomfortable silence. “I was just thinking of stupid things to distract myself from… all this.” He gestures wildly in hopes it covers his colloquial.

His lawyer nods, her lips pursed like the words she wants to say are threatening to burst outward if she doesn’t keep her mouth shut. She probably doesn’t believe his innocence either, but Kise can’t really say he blames her.

He just found out about the murders at the modelling agency in the warehouse _he_ was supposed to have his photo shoot. Innocent people he's never even met; all killed because of him — because of some bad choices he made a few years ago. It’s no wonder he hears the whispers of the officers behind his back, the looks of disdain and disgust he gets from the men and women who pass by the glass windowed conference room.

“I understand,” she says. “But as I was saying, the ones that found the bodies were the new models hired to replace you and your friends,” he hears Kaori say. “Apparently the target was your agent, Kasamatsu-san.”

“Kasamatsu-san?” repeats Kise, this time all cynicism gone from his tone.  “How do you know he was the target? Wait — is Kasamatsu-san okay? Is he hurt? Is he —”

“Calm down, calm down. The police believe that your agent was the target because of the message written in blood at the crime scene. The message taunted the police by saying that _you_ wanted to kill your agent and because he was in protective custody, the crew on location were murdered in his stead.”

“That’s ridiculous!” Kise blurts. “ _Me?!_ I wasn’t even in town when the murders occurred! I was with —”

Kaori raises her hand and Kise falls silent. “I know where you were and I still haven’t forgiven you for taking off like that without telling me. I can’t have a client who’s a suspect in an active murder investigation just up and leave town. It makes you look guilty.”

“But I’m _not_ guilty,” Kise argues, the skin in his cheeks flaring hot as his blood pressure spikes. “And I have a perfectly good reason as to _why_ I left —”

“I know,” Kaori agrees with a nod, “which is why I haven’t said anything. I understand why you left but promise me from here on out that you won’t do anything without running it by me first. You may not have killed those people but you’re still suspected with having some kind of involvement in all of the murders, Ryōta. The fact that you’ve developed a relationship with the lead detective on this case and the fact that people around you both continue to wind up injured or otherwise don’t help _your_ case either. So just… Promise me you’ll stay put until we’ve figured this out.”

“Yeah… yeah sure.” He doesn’t sound convincing to himself and in the back of his mind, Kise knows that he’d flee if given the chance, regardless of anyone’s determination of his innocence. Especially if it meant it’d keep the people he cared about safe. “What about Kasamatsu-san? Has anyone contacted him to make sure that he’s still safe?”

“They've moved him but he's in custody still. The only ones with that information are Nijimura-san and the captain, Harasawa-san. I've been assured he's safe since I'm no longer allowed to contact with him because of the recent murders. Your family has been moved to another location as well.”

Kise's mind wanders back to his family, his mother and his sisters, his nephew. He thinks about how much fear he's caused them and it makes him feel like his entire world is folding in on him and reducing him to nothing but a speck of wasteful space. He thinks about how they aren’t safe no matter where they are and that they won’t be safe until this is all over. And it all comes back to him.

Kaori’s voice interrupts his train of thought. “How are your friends doing? Uh… Satsuki-san and her husband?” Even she sounds distant, her words drifting as seemingly far away as her mind as she stares blankly through the window.

He’s thought about calling the hospital in Nagasaki but he’s been too distracted with everything else to do so. _Who am I kidding_ , he thinks sourly. He knows in all actuality, it’s the fear of being blamed for their accident that keeps him from calling most.

Kise doesn’t have an answer give her. Not when saying the truth out loud means he has to accept it. He gnaws at the raw skin on his lips, the slight taste of coppery blood masks the lingering gunmetal. He’s silent for a long time until the guilt begins to eat away at him like the way he chews at his lips. Then, “Kaori… what’s going to happen to all the families of the victims?”

Kaori turns from the window just as Kise looks up at her from where he’s sitting. She seems confused, even blinks rapidly a few times before asking, “What do you mean? If you think the killer might go after them as well, the police have —”

“No,” Kise softly interrupts. “What’s going to happen to them — having to deal with losing a loved one for no reason other than they were in the wrong place at the wrong time and they were associated with the wrong person?”

Kaori shakes her head. “I don’t understand. Are you worried they’re going to sue you for some kind of liability? Compensatory and punitive damages?”

“What? No, of course not!” barks Kise. “I’m appalled that you’d even _think_ that! You’re supposed to be my lawyer, don’t tell me you think I’m guilty too.”

“It’s not my job to believe your innocence, it’s my job to _prove_ your innocence by creating enough reasonable doubt —”

“ _What?_ ”

“Okay, I didn’t mean it like that. Look, all I’m saying is that you need to start thinking about yourself in all this. It’s tragic yes, but I’m sure they’ll find peace in time, Ryōta. It is… the most unfortunate of events but you must remember that this isn’t your fault. Someone out there is targeting you and they’re doing everything they can to hurt you.”

Kaori’s words offer little comfort and Kise is back to feeling nauseated and self-loathing.  “Why… doesn’t he just kill me,” he murmurs, heaving a sigh so broken and heavy it leaves him breathless. “It’d be so much easier that way, wouldn’t it? If I was dead? I mean, that’s what he wants anyway. Eventually, when he gets tired of hurting me by hurting the people I care about, he’s just going to kill me anyways. If I died before that could happen, he wouldn’t need to play this stupid game.”

“Ry—”

“He had the chance, you know. Back at the apartment? He was there… with me.”

Kaori remains silent, her eyes studying and searching.

“He told me he wanted to destroy my life. That all of these murders… these people’s fear and their pain... it’s my fault.”

“Why didn’t you tell that to the police? It would help them understand him and his endgame, Ryōta.”

Kise shrugs. “What difference would it have made? They already know he's been there. There was enough evidence to prove that. It still doesn’t stop them from thinking the same thing everyone else is. That I might as well have been the one to murder all these innocent people. This _is_ his endgame.”

“No,” Kaori contests. Kise feels her hand come down on his shoulder and her fingers squeeze reassurance into his skin. “ _Haizaki_ did this. He’s solely responsible for all this misery, Ryōta. You’re just as much of a victim as all the others. He’s counting on you feeling miserable and responsible for this. He’s counting on you suffering so that you’ll do something drastic like taking your own life.”

“It’d be better that way —”

“No, it wouldn’t. If you were to do that, if you were to kill yourself then you’re letting him win. You stop thinking about that right now. You kill yourself and you look guilty. The truth dies with you and all of those people's’ deaths would be in vain. I’m sorry I said that it wasn’t my job to believe you, Ryōta. I do, okay? I do believe you. You just have to trust that Aomine-san and his team will catch him.”

“Yeah,” Kise submits. “Sure.” He falls silent and goes back to picking at the loose thread on his jumpsuit. He begins to think of simpler times before this happened to distract him from the overwhelming guilt weighing him like cement blocks tied to his ankles just before he’s been thrown into an ocean.

Kaori clears her throat after a lengthy, pregnant silence. “Well, I’m going to speak to Akashi-san in regards to what the DA’s office has planned for you. You’ll be okay here, Ryōta. You’re safe.”

“Yeah,” Kise chokes around the lump in his throat. He feels the threat of tears burning in the wells of his eyes. “It’s not me I’m worried about.”

Kaori says nothing but nods curtly before opening the door to the conference room.

“Hey, Kaori-san?”

“Hm?”

“Can you leave the case files here with me? I can’t go anywhere and I’ll be here alone, so I’ll have nothing to do.”

“Are you sure you want them? The crime scene photos are horribly macabre.”

It’s all he has of Aomine right now. Seeing his reports; his handwritten notes in ink that Kise can reach out and trace with his fingertips and imagine the other sitting at his desk, pensive and brooding and maybe even thinking of him. Anything to distract him from the last time Aomine looked at him. “I won’t be looking at those,” he says with a light chuckle.

“Well okay,” agrees Kaori, pulling the case files from her briefcase. She hands them over and squeezes his shoulder one last time. “Just promise me you’re not going to do anything stupid, okay?”

“Yeah,” Kise says distractedly. Famous last words. “I promise.”

He waits until he can no longer see Kaori’s shadow or anyone else’s for that matter before setting the files down on the round table. There they stay for what feels like aeons before Kise finally gathers enough nerve to thumb open the first file labelled SHINJUKU POLICE DEPARTMENT CASE FILE NO.965791-00 ”A”, stamped with the date of the first murders. Attached to the inside the jacket is a form labelled INCIDENT REPORT. Below that is the police department’s crest and Aomine’s name signed as acting lead officer on the case. Kise closes his eyes and allows for his fingers to trail over the ink as if by touching it he can somehow draw out the smooth warmth of Aomine’s skin. It does little to comfort him when he’s reminded that underneath this are subfiles labelled with CRIME SCENE, EVIDENCE LOG, FORENSICS and CORONER; all of them holding horrible and unspeakable truths about the first night that opened the door to Kise’s very own hell.

It takes Kise a few more minutes of stalling before he moves to the crime scene folder.  He finally opens it and fans out the photographs, only taking a glance before quickly shutting the folder again. Kise fights back the urge to throw up.  He doesn’t bother reading any of the statements or reports or looking at any more photographs from that night. He’s not going to find the answer he’s looking for in that folder.

 _What exactly_ are  _you looking for?_

“I don’t know,” Kise murmurs aloud, spreading the remaining folders out on the table in front of him. Each one is stamped with the dates the investigations began, each one containing the same sub-folders.  Maybe he’s looking for a connection to it all; _maybe_ he’s looking for something that will clear his him of all the guilt that’s rotting his gut from the inside out.

“Think,” he says to himself, tapping his fingers against the manila folders. “Think, think, _think_.” Kise closes his eyes and tries to concentrate but instead of worded theories, images in his mind begin taking shape; crackling neurons spiking over his synapses like an electrical storm. The events are all out of order, crashing into one another violently until the lines blur between them and Kise becomes confused as to what happened when. He tries harder to sort them out; coming home and lying in a pool of sticky, lukewarm blood — _there!_ That was the first night; the night the terror began.

_Think harder._

There must be something everyone’s missing.

Kise begins to rewind the memory; the images running backwards through time, scattered and snowy like scenes from an old VHS. He sees himself walking back through the house, back down the driveway and into the dark night. No. It’s morning but the moon is still out, cold and bright. Its light illuminates the yard, sparkling off the metal lawn chairs toppled over in the grass.

_They must have had a party. They should have come out with me instead._

There’s a cab at the end of his driveway. He gets in, slumps over in the back; the world is spinning, his clothes are wrinkled and smell of perfume and beer. Kise also smells pizza and — pine? Yes, pine. There’s a ridiculously shaped pine tree car freshener hanging from the rear-view mirror. It keeps spinning on its string while it sways, the motion making Kise almost as nauseous as the pine pizza. The insides of his nostrils burn while his nose runs, though not from the offensive odour. There’s a chalky, medicated drip coating the back of his throat and tongue. His jaw hurts from clenching, his eyes burn from smoke but he’s home and the comforts of his bed are singing to him like an angelic gospel. Above all, he feels weightless and giddy and hungry.

_Now go back, further._

Kise travels along the highway, over a bridge where pools of orange lights flood the inside of the cab at equally spaced intervals. The ride is silent, he’s asleep for most of it. The car then backs into a parking lot and suddenly there’s a woman at the car door, tapping at the window with a wide smile. It opens and her hands wrap around his biceps, tugging him out of the vehicle. She’s saying something but Kise can’t make out the words, no matter how hard he tries. He keeps looking at her mouth moving but only saccharine sound comes out. Her dress hugs at her hips, his coat is draped over her shoulders and her hair is dishevelled.

_What’s your name?_

He can’t remember if she tells him, yet he knows he keeps asking her. She’s beautiful and taking him through the lobby of a hotel — The Mahjong. Kise enters the elevator laughing, stumbling, confused with his surroundings. The ride up is short, the room was on a lower floor, close to the elevator. Inside the room are glasses of half-drunk champagne, discarded clothes and an empty ice bucket lay on the floor. The bed is so comfy, he doesn’t want to go home. _Please just let me stay here, I paid for the night_ — _why do you keep trying to waking me up?_

Then suddenly the images shatter and everything goes black; the sounds and smells and lights around him and he’s back in the conference room of the police station. No matter how hard Kise tries to call up a memory, nothing comes except for a sharp sting at the juncture of his neck and shoulder, as if he were stung by a bee. Kise hisses as his hand flies up to spot yet there’s no pain or tenderness. He assumes then that he's imagined it.

“Was that when I was drugged?” he asks himself now, already knowing the answer is affirmative. He shakes his head loose as it will help clear the fog in his memory and closes his eyes once more, reaching back to moments before he arrived at the hotel.

Kise gets into the cab with a woman, the same woman. Brown eyes so wide they could swallow you up; hair that feels like silk against his fingers and smells of honey and milk. The cab smells familiar; the acrid scent of days old pizza and stale pine. _The same cab, the one Haizaki drove._

Behind him is The Yellow Jasmine, a club recommended to him by his entourage and a club approved by Kise himself because of its notoriety. He remembers Kasamatsu-san being furious with him and trying to talk him out of going but Kise often gets his own way, even when it comes to his agent. Kasamatsu-san had come along that night, only after citing that the only reason was to babysit him. _That plan worked out great, Kasamatsu-san. Where were you when I was being dru_ —

_Focus. You need to go back further._

The music is booming, dropping basslines loud enough to shatter eardrums. His throat is raw from shouting over the music but the smooth burning alcohol he consumes helps him medicate. There are many girls on his arm that night; some end up in his lap, others grind against him on the dancefloor. It’s near closing time and most of his people have gone home. Kise searches the crowd for Kasamatsu-san but the sea of faces have begun to blur into an array of light and colours. He leaves his table to use the bathroom when a woman catches him by the arm. Her grip is tight but her smile sweet and she tells him that he’ll be leaving the club with her that night. Kise laughs. Many girls have already made this declaration but something is different about her. He isn’t sure what but he knows that she’s right.

He makes his way through the drunken and overly-sexual stimulated crowd, through yakuza making drug deals and dirty cops that could be made from a mile away. He isn’t watching where he’s going when he crashes into something that nearly knocks him over. Kise snaps his head around hoping that no one saw the blunder but that’s when he realises he hasn’t hit something but some _one._ Kise is about to mutter some obscenities and a lesson in how to watch where one is going when something strikes him odd enough to make his blood run cold.

The man is about as tall and wide as Kise is, give or take a few pounds. More muscle, less cocaine diet. His skin is pale, his hair a paler gold; much like Kise’s own hair. He dons silver hoops in both ears, as does Kise now. The resemblance is eerily uncanny, like he’s looking at his own reflection through a carnival funhouse mirror and all of this is just a really bad parlour trick. The other guy’s lips curl into a wry grin before he says, _“Watch where you’re going, pig.”_ Though said calmly enough, something about his demeanour challenges Kise; offends him even yet Kise says nothing in return. He nods curtly instead and steps to the side to allow the other man to pass. He’s still reeling a little but he’s had a blast tonight and Kise wasn’t about to let anything spoil the remaining hours. He manages to get to the bathroom, handles his business and he’s back out on the dancefloor before long. Within an hour, all is forgotten and this new mystery woman whose name Kise can’t seem to place holds all his attention.

A noise snaps him out of his recollection, deafening like a gunshot echoing in his ears but when his eyes open there’s only a kid with brown, wiry hair in a lab coat standing in the doorway, his eyes round and wide like he’s just seen a ghost.

“S-sorry to interrupt! I’m sorry I scared you but ah — K-Kise-san,” he stammers as he steps into the room. “You’re bleeding.”

“What?” And now that he’s become aware of it, Kise can feel sticky warmth trickling down from his nose and over the ridge of his lips. He touches his fingers to the trail of blood and brings them outward to view as if feeling it isn’t enough for believing. His head automatically nods down to the surface of the table where coin-sized droplets of blood have splattered the table. “Oh,” he whispers; his voice paper-thin.

“Here.” The kid offers him a box of tissues. “Sorry.”

“Yeah.” Kise takes the box and pulls out a few tissues. He wipes harshly at his skin. The sight of blood now unnerves him, even if it is his own. “Thanks.”

“U-uh, Sergeant Aomine-san sent me in here to find out if there’s anything you need?”

Kise looks up then, tissue still pressed against his nose. “Aomine? Where… where is he?”

“Oh,” the kid frowns. “He’s not here right now. I'm sorry! He’s left to go question some witnesses. He— he stopped by my lab on his way out and asked me to check on you. Is… is there anything you need? Are you alright? Do you need a doctor? Some water? I could ask an officer to take you out for some air if you need that. Perhaps you need to lie down? Coffee? Oh! I could give you a homemade bento I brought —”

“No!” Kise loudly blurts, unintentionally, suddenly feeling very overwhelmed by this man’s presence.  
  
“S-sorry! I didn’t  —”

“No, please, stop apologising. Really, I’m fine — I’m okay. Thank you for the offer, uh…”

“Sakurai Ryō, sir.”

“Sakurai-san, thank you but I’m alright. I was just trying to use my brain too hard,” Kise jokes with a hollow laugh. Sakurai laughs as well but it’s clearly nervously confused and the look of discombobulation on his face proves that.

“Okay… if there _is_ anything you need, just notify someone outside and ask that they page me. Aomine-san left me in charge and if you were unsatisfied in any way or if anything happened on my watch — well — I can’t imagine Aomine-san being too pleased with my performance so —”

“Don’t worry,” Kise assures with a forced smile when he notices Sakurai nervously wringing his hands raw. “I’ll be sure to let you know if there’s anything I need.”

“O-okay, good,” Sakurai nods. He lets out a relieved chuckle. “Sorry to have bothered you.”

“It’s fine,” Kise waves. He watches Sakurai bow out and shut the door behind him and lets out his own sigh of relief. “Weird kid.”

He sits staring at the door for some time, waiting and expecting another interruption before a breeze of warm breath hits the shell of his ear making him jump in his seat.

“ _He doesn’t want to see you, that’s why he sent that kid in here. He’s ashamed of you and how dirty you are._ Disgusted.”

It’s Haizaki’s voice; it sounds so real and feels so tangible that Kise has to frantically search the room for a ghost.

“ _He finally sees you for who you really are, Ryōta_. _He can’t stand to look at ya.”_

“Shut up,” snaps Kise, into thin air. _It’s not true. Aomine is busy, Aomine is trying to protect me. Sure, he could have come in here to check up on me but he’s got to keep up appearances, right?_

_“Everyone knows about you and him and he’s ashamed. He’s disgusted that he let you touch him with yer filthy mouth now that he knows it’s been on mine.  Heh. It’s true.”_

“No. You’re the one with the filthy mouth and it needs to shut right now. Aominecchi would never think those things about me.”

_“Wouldn’t he though? Why isn’t he here then; why couldn’t he look at you back at the apartment? Yer so used up that no one wants you.”_

Kise grits his teeth so hard that his jaw aches. “Well, apparently _you_ do. That’s why you’re doing this to me, isn’t it? Because _you_ want me? Because you can’t bear the fact that I chose someone better than you? Because _he chose me_ too?"

“ _Ryōta, listen to yourself. You don’t actually believe a word of it, do ya? It’s because Daiki_ is _such a goody-goody that he will never love a disgusting piece of trash like you.”_

“Shut up, shut _up_.” Kise presses his hands hard against his ears. “You’re not here, you’re not real.”

Laughter. Louder and louder, roaring surround sound coming from all directions. _“Oh c’mon. I’m pretty fuckin’ real, wouldn’t ya say?”_ The voice cracks and loudly cackles, reverberating in Kise’s head. _“Those people didn’t up and murder themselves.”_

It doesn’t help. The voice is in his head, not here in the room. Kise _knows_ that but it doesn’t stop him from trying to drown the voice out. As long as Haizaki’s alive, there will never be a way to drown the sound of his voice out. There will never be a way of getting rid of Haizaki so long as he lives, of this Kise is certain.

 _“I bet you want to kill me, don’t you? Could ya do it? I bet you could. Go ahead, get your revenge. Do it,”_ the voice goads. _“Then you’ll be a murderer just like me.”_

Kise slams his fist against the table and rises out of his seat in such a hurry that he knocks over the chair. It clatters to the floor loudly despite most of the sound being muted by the carpet underfoot. “You’re wrong! I’m nothing like you! I’ll find you and I’ll make you pay for everything you’ve done. That won’t make me a killer and it won’t be revenge! It’ll be justice!”

The laughter dies down and fades away as Kise suddenly becomes aware of the officers outside the office are all staring at him. He hears the phones ringing shrilly, sees the people mouthing words he can’t. Fear and embarrassment hit him in coinciding waves until he can feel himself shaking bodily. He can’t stay here, he’ll go mad... as if he hasn’t already.

Kise makes up his mind, all eyes are on him as he makes his way to the door and flings it open as dramatically as he can muster. “I need some air,” he announces and heads towards the front area of the station. He dares to look over his shoulder but no one seems to be making a move to stop him or follow him. There are just murmurs of people suggesting someone should, yet none of them steps forward. They all just continue to stare in shock.

He turns the corner and here is where he expects to be stopped by officers posted at the door and reception desk. Except they’re all so busy in conversation and stuffing their faces with powdered pastries that no one happens to notice as he passes by. This time he doesn’t bother to look over his shoulder as he pushes through the glass doors of the precinct and steps out into the warm, balmy air.  He sees the end of the entrance and the stairs leading to it. If he can just make it passed those stairs and onto the sidewalk, he’ll be free.

Kise doesn’t waste another moment hesitating. With determination and fire pumping through his veins, he marches down the walkway and steps. There aren’t any officers Kise can see loitering out front. If there are, none of them are doing anything to stop him — if they are even aware of who he is. While wearing the jumpsuit, perhaps they guessed he was just released. Either way, it’s working as the perfect disguise. For now.

The first thing Kise does once he makes it to the end of the street is stop and try to remember how to get to Momoi’s apartment. He doesn’t have any money for a cab or bus nor does he have a phone to call anyone for a ride —  not that he would know who to call anyway. The only thing that will get him there is his two feet and on his way there, he’ll devise a plan to put an end to all this.

* * *

It takes Kise over two hours and a few wrong turns to figure out the direction he’s supposed to be heading. The sun’s sweltering heat burns through his clothes and prickles his skin. By the time he does reach the apartment, Kise is drenched in sweat and suffering from dehydration. He manages to slip into the lobby when an elderly woman is leaving with a small, mangy mutt that she’s carrying in her arms. The dog barks at him but she pays no mind and neither do any of the other residents in the lobby. Rather than wait for an elevator, Kise makes his way to the stairwell and up the flights of stairs leading to Momoi’s apartment. When he reaches her floor, he has to pause a moment and rest his head against the cool metal of the fire door to prevent himself from spinning out of control like the world around him. His vision is starting to blacken but the frigid air provided by the building’s air conditioner is helping lower his body temperature. All he needs now is to make it inside the apartment and chug about ninety bottles of water.

The door is still marked off with yellow evidence tape and a red sticker seals the door to the doorframe telling him to stop if he isn’t law enforcement. Kise lets out a somewhat sardonic chuckle. “I am the law now,” he says as he rips down the tape. He finds the door unlocked when he turns the handle and with enough pushing force, he’s able to break the seal so that he can enter.

The apartment is as Kise remembers before he left, except there are black smudges of what he assumes are fingerprint ink all over the walls.

“Man, Momocchi is going to kill me,” he groans. A darker thought passes, urging Kise to continue moving further into the apartment. He’ll need to get rid of these clothes but he has no time to shower. If he’s going to find Haizaki before the police find  _him,_ he’ll need to be quick.

To the guest bedroom he goes, where Aomine’s duffel bag rests on the edge of the bed, still unpacked from when they returned home from Nagasaki. There’s no time to stop and reminisce or feel sorry for himself — he’s wasted enough on that already. Right now he needs to focus all his energy on coming up with a plan.

Kise rifles through the bag and retrieves a pair of jeans and a faded t-shirt. He rushes out of the jumpsuit and dashes into the outfit, catching a quick glimpse of himself in the mirror above the dresser. He’s pleased, as it’s a look that will call no attention to him. The jumpsuit may have worked fine when escaping the precinct, but not for where he’s about to go. The less inconspicuous, the better. Continuing phase one of his plan — the disguise —  Kise rummages through all the dresser drawers and closets until he comes up with a baseball cap and sunglasses. All that’s left is to throw on some shoes, find some money and look for the burner cell Aomine left with him earlier this morning. After another ten minutes spent, Kise manages to find a handful of coins and a few bills in a jar on Kuroko’s dresser, to which he apologises out loud for having to borrow. Next, he tears the bedding apart in search for the cell phone Aomine left but comes up empty-handed.

“They must’ve taken it in for evidence,” he concludes, hands resting on his hips as he gives the room a once-over just to be certain. Except he can't seem to move his feet and turn away from the bed, where the sheets begin to billow out and recede, taking the form of two humanly shapes. There are echoes of laughter and memories from the other resurface. The heat of Aomine's touch, the blossoming feeling of comfort and normalcy. But he has to shake them loose; the thoughts, the feelings— all of it, he has to give up. The softness of his lips, the touch of his skin. The idea of waking up next to him every single morning lying in a pool of the sun's warmth, witnessing the everyday rarity of Aomine's smile.

So when the tears start to burn the wells if his eyes and his lungs stop working; when the wrenching pain in his chest becomes too much to bear, “I love you,” is what he whispers to the ghosts lying tangled up in the bedsheets and quickly clears his throat. Then, “I’ll just have to find some other way to contact Kasamatsu-san,” Kise says as if the change of subject aloud is to convince the non-existing audience of his determination rather than himself. It does him good anyway and he starts thinking clearer because he begins to have second thoughts about calling Kasamatsu, even if it was a thought meant for distraction in the first place. He heads up the hall towards the front door and slips into a pair of old sneakers. Calling his agent would most definitely be a bad idea, given that he’s supposed to be in _protective_ custody and Kise might be giving away his location and endangering his safety. “Maybe it’s best if I didn’t.” It’s not like he’d know the number to call even if he wanted to.

After guzzling down a bottle of water from the refrigerator and spending some time in the cool apartment, Kise no longer feels the effects of the heat and the afternoon sun hangs low in the sky. He doesn’t have much time before he assumes a search will be put out for him, so he has to hurry.

He’s about to reach for the door handle when he hears another voice ringing in his ears. This time its Aomine.

_“What’re you gonna do when you see him, Kise? You’ve got no weapon and he’s a dangerous killer.”_

“Don’t worry, Aominecchi. I’ve got a plan,” Kise says to himself, his chest puffing with pride and he opens the front door. He shuts the door behind him with a sense of closure, as if it symbolises the ending of a really horrific chapter in a book. _Good things are going to come_ , he thinks as he makes his way down the stairs and out into the lobby. When he makes his way down the driveway and out onto the street, he flags down a cab easy and tells the driver where to go without skipping a beat. Kise can feel it; the air is changing and with it, his luck. There’s no more room for despair or doubt, not even hope. There’s only one person he can depend on to finish this, and that’s himself. It’s the only way for Kise to make sure no one else gets hurt.

The cab ride is long and silent, save for the muted music coming from the driver’s car stereo. Kise spends most of the time staring out the window. They manage to miss most red lights and thankfully don’t get stuck in any rush hour traffic. When the cab rolls to a stop, the driver turns to Kise and asks, “You sure this is where you wanna be?”

“Yeah,” Kise answers with a smile. He searches through his pocket for the wadded bills he stuffed in it earlier. He hands them to the driver and nods. “Keep the change.”

When Kise exits the cab he can hear the loud chatter of hundreds of people strolling up and down the streets. It’s as lively as it is any other night of the week; bells and alarms from pachinko machines going off; cheers and cries of excitement pierce the night. There are tall buildings and short buildings; some narrow and some wide and some split up into equal sizes spanning blocks in either direction. Some have frontal entrances, others have side or back entrances. Some have stairs leading to basements and others leading up to rooms where the secrets there stay behind closed doors. Each has their own features and themes; Kabukichō is unlike any place in the world Kise has ever been. There are mascots that line the streets, some in costume and others in suits. They hand out pamphlets or spin colourful signs to get your attention — promise you a night to remember just to get you inside. There are x-rated clubs with billboards ten feet wide or more with naked men and women that will do anything you wish as long as you pay the right price. There are streets lined with toy shops and adult toy shops, from everyday fashion to explicit fashion; from cosplay to roleplay, electronics and animatronics. There are narrow alleyways filled with stalls that will curb any soba or ramen craving, or to offer a place to sit and unwind with a good beer or warm sake. Food or retail carts on almost every corner, selling everything from takoyaki to cell phone charms to cheap jewellery. The lights are always bright and flashing and the _Godzilla_ head above the theatre has always been one of Kise’s favourite things.

As he walked down the streets he was bumped into and pulled at; pamphlets shoved in his face and told he’d have a great time if he stepped inside this or that establishment. Kise doesn’t stop, he’s on a mission. His plan was to go back to The Yellow Jasmine and demand that someone tell him where Haizaki is hiding —  or better yet, find Haizaki himself. Maybe it wasn’t all that clever of a plan but Kise knows this way is the only way. Haizaki needed to be stopped — and of course, Kise had planned to reason with him at first but if that wasn’t a go, there were many other things he could try. After all, it’s _him_ that Haizaki wants, right? And there has to be some reason why Kise was left alive. He’s been close enough to think he knows what’s going on inside the other’s head. Haizaki’s acting like a spoiled child and this is a cry for attention — a little insane yes, but at this point, Kise thinks he’s equipped to deal with the crazy.

Distracted by thoughts, Kise stops when he realises he’s two blocks past where The Yellow Jasmine should have been. Pausing, he stops to remember if he had indeed passed it but he can’t seem to recall hearing the loud music or seeing the line-up he and his friends surpassed the first night he had come here. He turns and looks over his shoulder but he doesn’t see the large jasmine flower lit up in yellow and white neon. He doesn’t see a crowd gathering outside either. In fact, he sees nothing but the silhouette of a building — so he squints a little harder, even takes off his sunglasses but there is nothing wrong with his eyesight. The Yellow Jasmine is there, as far as he can tell, but it’s shrouded in shadow and not even the brightly coloured lights from the surrounding buildings seem to touch it. It’s like the building stands in the middle of a black hole and anything in its radius seems to get sucked in and disappear. So naturally, as if being pulled in by the black hole’s force, Kise begins moving towards the club. He walks slowly and cautiously as the chilling feeling of something not-being-quite-right continues to crawl up his spine. _Maybe it’s been closed down since Aominecchi got shot,_ Kise thinks, which to his chagrin is as much of a disappointing thought as it is pleasing. Except the closer he gets, the more aware of reality Kise becomes.

The Yellow Jasmine is still standing but there are no lights on or inside the club because most of them have obviously been shattered. The building is blackened, darker in areas where hotter flames angrily licked the structure. The only thing allowing light in are the gaping holes where windows used to be. Kise gets closer to the abandoned club and when he peers inside, all he sees is what’s left of it; melted furniture covered in soot and crumbling debris, charred carpets and fixtures. The poles shine dully with an oil slick rather than the chrome metal gleam Kise remembers. A watery grave floods the bottom, swallowing all the sin seen inside this place allowing them to seep through the cracks to the hell below where they belong. A shoe floats by; a juiceless electrical cord swings and falls from the ceiling and makes an odd plunking sound when it hits the water. Kise’s stomach sinks along with it.

Without the club, Kise’s plan falls to pieces. He doesn’t know much about Kabukichō now, he’s only been back in Japan for two months, and without knowing where to go next leaves Kise feeling hopeless. He may remember the stories of Kabukichō when he and Aomine grew up, but he has no idea where he’d find Haizaki in the thousands of faces crowding the streets and clubs and bars right now. He feels like a tourist in a foreign city, lost and unsure of what strangers are safe to talk to and which aren’t. It’s not like he can go around flagging a picture of Haizaki to every shop on the strip and asking for information — actually that would have been a _brilliant_ plan if Kise had just thought about this more and remembered to bring some photos from the evidence files instead of shooting up out of the precinct in a frenzied hurry.

“God, how could I be so stupid?!” he chastises, kicking a rock of debris up an alley he hadn’t realised he walked into. His voice reverberates through the narrow space, as does the shrill song of a metal rung that gets struck by the rock he kicked. It’s oddly quiet Kise notices, and the creeping feeling of something being off returns, only this time it’s gripping him by the shoulders and whispering raspily against his neck.

  
“Thought I might find ya down here.”


	28. Chapter 28

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter finally out! Thank you guys so much for continuing to be patient with me and supporting this fic. It means the world to me.

XXVIII

* * *

 

The drive from the precinct to the prison is about forty minutes give or take the traffic. The ride remains silent despite the three men stuffed in a compact sedan, save for the intermittent crackling of dispatch. No one discusses a plan and Aomine can’t even be sure he has one. The only thing he’s sure of is that he needs information — something more than just photographs and suspicions that confuse the lines between his instincts and his heart.

The three of them head towards the grand entrance-way of Fuchū Prison, something of a spectacle when compared to the American prisons Aomine’s seen in movies. The mirrored glass above the portico reflects the slow, hypnotic sway of the trees in the slight arid breeze. The sun’s rays catch the glass in a blinding white crisscross as if to mark this spot off as to where his treasure lies. Aomine can only hope that it’s a sign. There are groups of civilians crowding its windows, led by tour guides who take them through the barren galleries, almost likening the facility to a funhouse at an amusement park. Inside the air is cool, at least in the front lobby. There is a gift shop that sells items made by the prisoners who all work daily as part of a strict regimen designed to give them discipline and work experience to help them reform.

After they flash their IDs and turn in their weapons, a guard leads them down a series dimly lit corridors where the soles of their shoes screech against the pristinely clean linoleum. The walls are lined with thick steel doors. In the centre of each door is a small window, only large enough for the eyes to peer through to look upon the prisoners inside. The prisoners are not given cots but thin mats on the floor for them to sleep on. During the day the prisoners are meant to sit on the floor itself, head hung low in the reflection of their crimes. They are not allowed to make eye contact with the visitors passing through or the guards themselves. Fuchū Prison is run strictly and holds all types of prisoners, from thieves and drug pushers to sex offenders and murderers. No one receives special treatment and for that, Aomine is at ease because in here, Imayoshi is just another number and not the head of Kabukichō’s most notorious yakuza family.

The guard finally stops in front of a glass room, boxed off from the rest of the cells. Inside is a steel table bolted to the floor along with two chairs. Imayoshi is seated in one, his hands and feet restrained by iron cuffs and chains also fastened to the floor. His head is hung; his no doubt smug expression hidden behind a curtain of ink black hair. The door is unlocked and the guard ushers them in but before Akashi makes his way in, he pulls the guard aside and whispers something Aomine is unable to pick up. Nijimura has already entered the room so Aomine follows, deciding that he’d ask Akashi about what he said after the interrogation.

“Imayoshi-san, it’s nice to see you again,” Nijimura quips, taking the only empty chair in the room. Aomine is fine with that; part of him feels he wouldn’t do too well if he had to sit across from the bastard and have free use of his fists.

“Likewise,” Imayoshi answers, lifting his head to reveal his sly slit eyes and complacent grin. “Though I didn’t expect ya to bring the whole gang. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Knock it off,” Aomine snaps as Akashi enters the room. “We didn’t come here to exchange pleasantries, Imayoshi. We wanna know about Haizaki Shōgo.”

Imayoshi frowns. “Shōgo-kun,  Shōgo-kun. It’s always about Shōgo-kun with you folks. I already told your detectives all I know about the brat. He’s caused me enough trouble as it is, I’d like to be done with him. If that’s all, would you be so kind as to call the guard to escort me back to my cell, Akashi-san?”

“I don’t think so,” Akashi says, walking in from behind Imayoshi. He takes a place in the furthest corner of the room as if he’s just there to observe. “You’ll give us the answers we’re looking for and then you can go back to rotting in your putrid cell.”

"My oh my,” Imayoshi croons with a grin. “Such hostility. Certainly, you don’t expect me to offer anything for you gentleman for free? I do have the reputation of a respected businessman to uphold.”

Aomine clenches his jaw. He can already feel the anger boiling in his blood. He isn’t sure if he can trust himself to remain cool enough to carry out this conversation, not when the memories of that fateful night at the club start flooding back; not when he remembers what it felt like to have the brains and blood of an innocent woman splatter across his face. “If you think we’d give you anything, you piece of shit, you —”

“What do you want?” interrupts Akashi.

Nijimura starts and turns in his seat, just as Aomine does. “Akashi-san! Surely you don’t —”

“Akashi, don’t be stupid — don’t play into this bastard’s —!”

Akashi raises his hand to silence them both, and it works. Despite the welling urge to argue, Aomine falls silent with a huff. He has to remember that in the end it’s all for the greater good.

“Immunity,” Imayoshi answers simply.

Aomine snorts. “You can’t be serious. You think that we’d give _you_ immunity —”

“Not for myself. For Makoto.”

“You’re insane,” Nijimura laughs. “He killed several people that night, including _two officers_. Like hell we’d let that go.”

“Consider it done,” Akashi answers, without hesitation.

“Akashi-san!” gasps Nijimura.

Aomine turns to Akashi again, this time unable to keep quiet. His skin is flaring hot, heart racing so quickly he can hear the blood rushing in his ears. “Have ya completely lost yer fuckin’ mind? You may be the district attorney but there is _no way_ in fuckin’ hell that a judge is gonna sign off on this! It’s not just the people of Shinjuku you'll have to answer to, but what are ya gonna say to the families whose loved ones were killed that night? What’re gonna say to the officers who want justice for this cop killer? Yer just gonna let that go? Send out the message that it’s alright for these low life scum to go out and kill as many cops as they want ‘cause they ain’t gonna get punished for it?”

“Do I have to ask you to leave because you cannot control yourself, Daiki?”

Akashi is glaring at him and Aomine is rendered speechless. There are so many things he wants to say riding on the tip of his tongue, filling his mouth with no way of escape. He relents with a grunt and retreats to the back wall where he can simmer in his anger until it subsides. He has to keep reminding himself that they’re here because of Kise but it doesn’t change the fact that these men are murderers and they don’t deserve the air that the rest of the population breathes, let alone their freedom.

“Ask your questions, Shūzō.”

“Y-yes… sir.”

“Fascinating,” Imayoshi grins. “It’s been so long since I’ve had good entertainment. I must say the Shinjuku Police Department never fail at providing — or should I say you, Aomine-san, never fail to amuse me?”

“Shut up,” Aomine growls. “Or we’ll revoke the immunity for yer _lover_ and you’ll never get to see him again. We’ll have him hung for his crimes as early as sundown.” He’s smug in his threat and it almost feels like he’s back to having some of the power in the room.

Imayoshi laughs. “Feelin’ good about yourself, are ya? Think you have me all figured  a out? You don't have any information on me that I don't want ya to know. I have nothin’ to hide, Aomine-san, so the leverage ya plan to use to shock me into obedience ain't gonna happen. The way I see it is ya need me to talk and I need Makoto alive. His freedom for my information. Idle threats ain’t gonna get you what you need and right now, you _need_ me.”

“You’re not in a position to bargain,” Aomine says dryly, catching Imayoshi’s slip in dialect which could only mean a slip in his composure. He folds his arms across his chest as if the motion will establish that he is the only alpha in the room.

“Neither are you.” Imayoshi’s grin widens. He leans back in his chair and Aomine knows that Imayoshi is aware of just how much truth there is behind that statement. They do need him. _Kise_ needs him.

Nijimura turns to Aomine and raises a brow. “If we’re done with the pissing contest I’d like to get to the interrogation now.”

Aomine surrenders with a sneer and a flag of his hand. The more time they waste here, the less time they have to catch Haizaki and as much as he hates it, he’s going to have to just shut his mouth and let Akashi work Imayoshi.

“Now hold on just a second. Don’t insult my intelligence by thinking I’d agree to these terms on just the good faith that the fine folks in the district attorney’s office will follow through on them. I’m going to have to ask you to give me more than just your word, Akashi-san.”

Akashi’s eyes narrow but he signals for the guard to open the door and moves to take a step outside the interrogation room. “I’ll make some calls. Shōichi, don’t waste my officers’ time.”

Imayoshi turns to face Nijimura. “Yes, yes. Ask your questions. I won’t hand over any information of value until I see that Akashi-san has made good on his word.”

“Alright. Why don’t we start with your club, The Yellow Jasmine. Did you give the order to have it burned to the ground as to destroy any evidence pertaining to the Kise Ryōta case or the case you’re currently being detained for?”

Imayoshi’s eyebrows raise and for a second he looks genuinely surprised. “That place is my livelihood, Nijimura-san. It’d be awfully stupid of me to destroy it.”

“Isn’t much use to you if yer in here,” Aomine comments. “Did you give the order to burn it down in hopes that you could collect the insurance for bail and lawyer fees?”

“Ridiculous,” Imayoshi laughs. “I’m not desperate for money. I wouldn’t destroy the only business that brings in my revenue. I know that in this country, expecting bail is useless. Guilty until proven innocent, isn’t that right, Aomine-san?”

“Except that the club ain't what brings in yer revenue, is it? No. It’s the human trafficking ring you run behind the scenes that makes you the real money. Do you really think we don’t know anythin' about you?” asks Aomine.  Not much _is_ actually known about Imayoshi or where he comes from. He and a few men loyal to him such as Hanamiya Makoto and Hara Kazuya have no known history before their time in Kabukichō, as if they were ghosts riding in on the shadows in the still of night. All Aomine is aware of are the things he can observe, like while this perfect gentleman facade is nothing but a ruse to hide a more dangerous, malicious side underneath, he’d sacrifice his own well being for the sake of someone  — and _only_ one  — that he loves and wants to protect. Aomine had intended to exploit that weakness but the more he interacts with Imayoshi, the more he comes to realise that the other is not a man that would reveal such a weakness unless he wanted you to see it. Under any other circumstance, Aomine might have admired a man like Imayoshi and the way he makes use of this skill.

“Mm… I suppose you could think you know things about me but the reason I’m sitting here under a slew of preposterous charges your justice department slapped together instead of human trafficking charges is because you haven’t been able to find evidence that would make those allegations stick.”

Aomine scoffs. “Those ain't preposterous charges and that woman, Mai, told me you sell off women — and even men in some cases — to yer clientele for the purpose of sexual slavery. Probably a shit load of other things too; anyone sick enough to buy another human being — there's no tellin' what kind of freaky fetishes they're into.” He shudders with the recollection of that night.

Imayoshi lifts his gaze from Nijimura and meets Aomine’s. “Unfortunately for you, that woman is dead and your testimony is just heresay —”

“She’s dead because of your piece of shit lackey, Hanamiya! Even if she did turn on me in the end, she had to, didn’t she? I saw the fear in her eyes when she looked at me and begged me —”

“Calm down,” Nijimura says, turning in his seat to face Aomine. “We’re not here to talk about that case. You two shouldn’t even be allowed to speak, especially under those circumstances. Just because you’ve been cleared, Aomine, the IAB is still investigating. Let Akashi handle negotiations and deals. It’s what he’s good at. We came here for information, let’s be cool about it.”

“Right, right,” Imayoshi laughs. “Listen to your partner, Aomine-san. Let us continue, shall we? You asked about my club. No, I did not give the order to have it destroyed. It’s the only thing I have that ties me to this city.”

“Guess now that it’s gone, you can move on and get the hell out of town. It’s about time we took back Kabukichō and got rid of the last yakuza family in the city,” Nijimura quips.

Kabukichō locals know all the places to stay away from, such as the clubs and pachinko parlours owned by yakuza or the host and hostess clubs that will build you up high and leave you dry. Some of those are also owned by yakuza — the large majority of which are owned by the Kurokawa-kai. Over the years, more accurately since Captain Harasawa has been in charge — and with the aid of Akashi — the Shinjuku police have managed to put the majority of the smaller yakuza criminals in prison.

However, the Yellow Jasmine has been there for many years, though it was a much smaller club and wasn’t always as explicit as it is currently. It used to be a hostess club, a classy one at that. A smaller establishment where the hostesses dressed as geisha and served clientele beverages and company. There were strict rules; no touching or sexual acts were permitted of any kind and anyone who didn’t abide were promptly thrown out and never allowed back. As time changed, so did The Yellow Jasmine. The clientele were younger and wealthier, the women more modern and scantily clad; perhaps adhering to a certain nightly theme such as maids or school girls. Rumor had it that The Yellow Jasmine was in violation of several codes, such as employing foreign hostesses and allowing sexual contact that resulted in several staff members over time to be assaulted and in a few cases, murdered. Eventually the club was shut down until a few years ago, when the newest and youngest head of the Kurokawa-kai, Imayoshi Shōichi bought the entire block, tore everything down and rebuilt it from the ground up. No one knows why he kept the name, but some suspect it was because of a lover, yet this rumour nor the one about his lover have ever been confirmed. Within a year, Imayoshi had the club’s grand re-opening. It was something of a hostess-stripclub hybrid, where patrons could drink and dance and watch naked women dance. After a while it became known that you could do more than just look, you could touch and even purchase if you knew the right people. You could score big time in VIP rooms if you weren’t looking for something permanent and if you had specific needs to be met, Imayoshi made sure he took care of them. He was charming and gentlemanly, a perfect host and far more intelligent than the previous owners. How he managed to evade the police and Public Safety Commission was anyone’s guess but that had been before it became known that once you stepped foot inside that club, Imayoshi owned you. It didn’t matter if you were local or not, nor if you were a public or civil servant — or the law. Imayoshi had a way with words, and Aomine knew this first hand.

“If it were that easy to get rid of me, Nijimura-san, someone would have done this a long time ago. No… this is likely Shōgo-kun’s way of retaliating.”

“Retaliation?” asks Aomine, interest piqued.

Nijimura laughs. “Don't tell me; he got pissy when you told him he couldn't have his way and this is his version of a temper tantrum?”

“Ah no,” Imayoshi says, the curve of his mouth dropping into a frown. “The little brat didn't like that I wouldn't give him a promotion. Shōgo-kun is great at pillaging, good with the grunt work, good at getting jobs done and debts paid. I didn't care how he did it, he was fantastic at getting me results. He had no talent for anything else though. Too angry, too violent, too hasty. He wasn't leadership material. I tried to compromise, I gave him some businesses and a section of Kabukichō to run on his own and while he was relatively successful at doing it, he wanted more. He took off with Kobayashi-san and started convincing some members of the family that it would be a good idea to follow him instead of me.”

“He started a coup d'etat,” Nijimura comments.

“Certainly tried,” Imayoshi agrees with a grin. “There was never any bad blood… at least not until the murders began.”

Nijimura nods in understanding. “Is Haizaki responsible for the murders?”

Imayoshi gives a nonchalant shrug. “Who knows? What I do know is that he became the prime suspect and with his connections to my family, he was bringing unnecessary and unwanted attention to our affairs.”

“So you cut him loose?”

“I had already cut him loose. A week prior to the massacre in that district, Makoto and myself had a meeting with him and a few other members. Since we have no elder, I tend to make the decisions concerning the family a bit of a democracy, see? The vote was unanimous and Shōgo-kun understood that breaking his ties with us meant we would no longer back him up or stand for his behaviour.”

“And you could take back your businesses because they were on _your_ turf.”

Imayoshi lifts his cuffed hands and adjusts the corner of his glasses, pushing them further up his face. “I had already taken them back. In exchange for his life, I had Shōgo-kun sign over all the deeds to the properties I had given him.”

Nijimura snorts with hostility. “Seems like a fair trade.”

“It is when you're in my business,” Imayoshi replies sternly, raising a brow. “In any other case, if Shōgo-kun had so much as breathed the words _coup d'etat_ he'd be a dead man.”

Aomine nods. As much as he hated to agree with the man, Imayoshi was right. “So when he secured that pachinko parlour under a different alias, it was because he was hiding out from you.”

“I suppose so,” Imayoshi says with another shrug. “Our business was done, he had no reason to hide unless it was from something — or _someone_ else. It is possible; perhaps once he planned to commit these crimes he figured he'd disappear under the radar.” Imayoshi pauses for a moment and then catches Aomine's gaze with cold eyes under the glint of his silver frames. “Had I known where he was after the night _you_ showed up at my club and destroyed everything, I certainly would have had him killed.”

The icy set of his tone sends a tremor up Aomine's spine. Imayoshi might seem like the pleasant type, certainly tried coming off that way, but here and now he was definitely emitting an aura far more dangerous and deadly than Akashi ever had. This was the real Imayoshi, the monster he's heard everyone speak of.

“So Kobayashi-san's murder and the explosion had nothing to do with you or the _Kurokawa-kai_?” asks Nijimura, shifting uneasily in his seat. He must have felt it too.

“No,” Imayoshi answers, leaning back against the chair. “That's far too dramatic and messy for my taste. Besides, killing innocent people doesn't sit well with me, detective. Not only was Kobayashi-san murdered, but so were many bystanders —”

“I'm aware of that,” snaps Aomine. “There have been nothing _but_ nonsensical deaths of innocent people in _my_ city since this all began. If it wasn't you who gave the order to blow up the pachinko parlour, then whose was it?”

“How should I know? I may be aware of a lot of things, Aomine-san, but the detective work is _your_ job. And from the looks of it, you're failing miserably in that department —”

“Wait,” interrupts Nijimura. “Kobayashi-san was shot in the head execution style, remember? The explosion was to cover up her murder because she was already dead.”

Aomine takes a step forward, shoves his hands into his pockets and leans in towards the prisoner. “Did’ja have her executed 'cause she switched sides? I know all about ya, Imayoshi. She was one of yer girls, she left the business without yer approval. Unpaid for.”

“I refuse to say anything that might incriminate me any further, especially since my lawyer isn't present,” Imayoshi says with a grin, unaffected by Aomine's invasion of his personal space. “but let's just say that Kobayashi-san's debt was paid long before this happened. She wasn't _mine._ ”

Aomine steps back and sighs. He feels like they've been at this for hours and they're not getting anywhere fast. It isn't the longest interrogation Aomine's ever been through, no, but he's never had all the answers within his reach yet be excruciatingly unobtainable either. He feels like they've already run out of time and this is going nowhere. If Akashi doesn't come back with something soon, it may be too late and all would have been for nothing.

“It must have been Haizaki all along,” concludes Nijimura. “He was tying up loose ends, getting rid of anyone that could turn on him. Maybe he had the club blown up as a warning message to you as well, Imayoshi-san.”

“What,” laughs Imayoshi, “for my silence? That good for nothing brat doesn't have the balls to go up against me. He knows that I'll —”

Imayoshi’s threat is cut short with Akashi’s arrival and Aomine breathes a loud sigh of relief. He doesn't care what Akashi has to do to get Imayoshi to talk at this point, he just needs _something_ to go on when they leave here.

“These are the papers for Makoto’s release and sworn immunity.” Akashi flips through a few pages. “This is his signature here, here and on the last page. This is my signature, the district attorney's signature and a judicial witness. I’d advise you to have your lawyer look —”

“That won’t be necessary,” Imayoshi interjects, clearing his throat. He peers over the rim of his glasses and when he smiles, an inexplicable chill shudders down Aomine’s spine. “I trust that everything in these documents are in order and that you’re a man of your word, Akashi-san.” It sounds more like a threat than it does a statement.

Akashi nods curtly and Aomine sees a flicker of something he has no name for in the attorney’s eyes that trumps the chills he got from Imayoshi earlier. Suddenly the tension in the air becomes uncomfortably tangible, clinging and choking until he’s forced to clear his throat.

“So you’ve got what you wanted, now it’s our turn. Tell us what you know,” Aomine demands as he grips the hard edge of Nijimura’s chair and leans in.

“There isn’t much more to Haizaki’s story,” Imayoshi says, tucking the papers for Hanamiya’s release into his jumpsuit. “Before he split, Shōgo-kun started hanging around this man that was frequenting the club.”

“Who?” asks Nijimura, getting out his tablet.

Imayoshi shrugs. “I don’t know, I’ve never seen him before two weeks ago.”

“Well what did he look like?” presses Aomine.

“Tall, blond.” Imayoshi shrugs. “It was dark. He wore baseball caps, kept his face hidden.”

Akashi’s foot taps impatiently. There’s a constant clicking sound as Nijimura enters data into the tablet.

“Anything else stand out about him? Tattoos, piercings? If you sat down with a sketch artist, would you be able to —”

“Is it Kise?” Aomine blurts, his voice hitting an octave higher and cracking with desperation. “Was it Kise with him all those times?”

“Daiki, I’m going to have to ask you to leave —”

Akashi’s hand falls on Aomine’s shoulder. He shrugs it off. “I just need to know, _was it him._ ”

“As much as I am quite enjoying the look of despair written all over your face at the moment,” Imayoshi says with a grin, “no, it was not _yer lover_.”

Aomine tenses but Akashi’s fingers tighten around his arm. “Calm down, detective. You got what you wanted. Let us do our jobs.”

He wants to feel relief but can’t. There’s still something missing, there’s still this heavy pressure sitting against his chest. His blood is boiling. Someone out there is impersonating Kise and together this man and Haizaki are bent on ruining his life. For now he falls back and lets Nijimura take over the questioning.

“Is there anything else you can tell us about the identity of this man, Imayoshi-san?”

He yawns as if he’s grown bored of this. “He was some ignorant tourist, maybe American,” Imayoshi says with a wave of his hand. “I threw him out of the club after he got into an altercation with one of my bouncers. Haven’t seen him since.”

“Do you think this man has anything to do with the coup d'etat Haizaki planned?”

“I doubt it,” Imayoshi replies, frowning. “Shōgo-kun had that planned long before this guy came around.”

Nijimura nods. “Do you think _he’s_ responsible for the recent string of murders?”

Imayoshi barks out a laugh. “Why are you so desperate for my opinion? I do believe the guesswork is a detective’s job, not a caged-up club owner’s.”

Akashi adjusts the suit jacket hanging over his shoulders before leaning over the desk so that he’s face to face with Imayoshi. With one hand, he swiftly plucks the folded copy of Hanamiya’s release from breast of Imayoshi's jumpsuit. “Now, I did not waste my valuable time on this for a measly crumb of useless information, Shōichi.” He straightens and Imayoshi reaches out for the papers in Akashi’s hand in a knee-jerk reaction. Aomine watches as Akashi grins, his fingers strumming the edges of the pages teasingly. “You promised me information of value, is that not correct?”

A flash of emotion, something akin to surprise or fear, crosses Imayoshi’s face but it’s only for a second before he resumes his pleasant facade. “I didn’t say it pertained to the case you’re working on, Akashi-san, but I do believe it is valuable all the same.”

“Well spit it out,” Nijimura snaps. “We’re done playing games, Imayoshi!”

Imayoshi holds his chained hands up in surrender. “It’s about one of your officers. He's real dirty."

“That’s nothing new,” grinds Aomine. “We’ve been weedin' out the bad seeds for years now. Don’t fuck around, Imayoshi! Tell us something we don’t know!”

“It’s that fat pig... That sloppy, sorry excuse for a cop, Sato. He’s been on my payroll for years.”

“Oh? Is that so?” Akashi raises a brow. “And why are you turning him over now? What’s in it for you?”

Imayoshi opens his mouth but pauses before nodding towards the papers in Akashi’s hands. “Those.”

“Go on then,” encourages Akashi. “Don’t waste any more of my time.”

“He was there the night you were at the club,” Imayoshi begins, directing his statement at Aomine. “Sato had been asking a lot of questions about Haizaki and Kobayashi. Somethin' had him spooked. I thought it was because he was nervous that he'd be found out but he kept wanting to know where they were and if they had said anything to me. I told him I hadn't been in contact with them and he seemed very angry. Then he brought you to my attention but got very upset when I decided to personally introduce myself to the infamous young sergeant responsible for cleaning up Shinjuku."

"Son of a bitch," Aomine mutters. "You knew I was a cop before Mai told you."

"Of course I did," Imayoshi snorts. "I knew who you were the instant you stepped foot into my club. You don't get ahead in my business without being able to read people, Aomine-san."

"He called in the shooting," Nijimura chimes in distantly. "Probably to cover his ass. He said that he and Nakamura were canvassing the area when he heard shots fired."

Aomine grits his teeth. Guilt and anger are boiling hot in his blood and it's only a matter of time before he really explodes. _He's got to remain focused_. “So what’s his deal then?" he asks after he's gained his composure. "You give Sato money? Women? Drugs? In exchange for what? Information? Pardons? Padding cases?” 

“Whatever I wanted in exchange for whatever he wanted, so long as it was within reason,” replies Imayoshi, cracking a grin. “However, shortly after the shooting, I learned that he was working with Shōgo-kun. He had Sato reporting back any information he knew of our operations, as well as digging up dirt on large corporations to later extort them out of millions of dollars.”

“If what you’re saying is true,” pipes Nijimura, “then what did Sato have to gain by playing both sides? I can’t believe that Haizaki would have more to offer him than you.”

“I don’t know, nor do I care,” shrugs Imayoshi. He uses the tips of his fingers to push the corner of his glasses up his nose. “However, since I can’t get to Sato for his betrayal from here, this will have to suffice as my retribution.”

“That’s why you wanted Hanamiya released,” deadpans Nijimura.

“A bullet to the brain would be too much of a courtesy for that piece of shit,” Imayoshi spits indignantly. “I wouldn’t turn him over just to have him killed. Besides, that isn't my style."

"Oh right, I forgot. Murder isn't your thing, human trafficking is," Aomine counters sourly, heading for the door of the interrogation room. He feels like he should be more shocked than what he is to hear of a fellow officer’s turning but they’ve dealt with it so many times in the past few years that he’s become desensitised. Not to mention, he had always thought there was something off about Sato. He was just never able to prove it until now.

Akashi signals to the guard waiting outside and then tosses the papers back onto the steel table in front of Imayoshi. “That will be all, we're done here. If you think of anything else, have your lawyer call me so I can save myself from having to look upon your detestable face again.” 

Imayoshi chokes out a laugh as Nijimura gets out of the chair but no one else says another word. Aomine isn’t completely satisfied with leaving things the way they are, but they’ve already been here longer than he intended. Aomine just hopes it wasn’t a complete waste and that it isn’t too late.

“If Sato was working for Haizaki, he might have information on the case he’s not telling us,” Nijimura says after they're out of earshot. 

"We'll have to figure out a way to get him to spill," adds Aomine. "Maybe psych him out, think he's bein' some kind of hero or crackin' the case for us with information only he knows."

"You both will have to wait until IAB is finished with him," Akashi says as the three of them head up the corridor to retrieve their belongings from the front desk.

Aomine frowns. "Yeah but we won't get near him with his union rep... This is a fuckin' mess." 

"Yeah," Nijimura says. "It's makin' my head spin. Every time we think we're taking one step closer to the end of this, something else comes out of the woodwork and blows this entire case out of the water."

"I'm gonna need a vacation after this."

"I hear that."

"Stop your whining."

“Hey... Are you really going to let a cop killer go free?” asks Nijimura.

“Of course not,” Akashi replies coolly. “The first slip he makes — I don't care if it's for crossing the street against the correct light **—** you bring him in and I’ll make sure that scum is crucified. My orders are always absolute and I bend them for no one.”

“I’m okay with that,” agrees Aomine, taking his cell phone out of the basket. “He’ll probably be no more than three feet outside the gate before he fucks up. That guy is rotten to the core.”

Nijimura is already dialing a number into his. “Well at least we got some worthy information. I’ve got to speak with Hasegawa-san immediately about Sato so IAB can be informed.”

“I’ll need to get a few warrants signed. Daiki, you’ll need to bring everyone up to speed on this information. I want a sketch artist up here with Imayoshi so we can get a copy of that description circulating in the media.”

“Right. If he ain’t from around here, someone’s gotta know somethin’. He’d be stickin’ out like a sore thumb,” nods Aomine.

“I’ll need to speak with Kise Ryōta again. Perhaps now might be a good idea to get him into protective custody.”

“That might not be possible,” Nijimura calls out just before Aomine and Akashi exit the prison.

Aomine’s hand freezes on the door handle and he turns to face his partner. “What're you talkin’ about?”

“Somehow Kise has managed to slip out of the precinct unnoticed and hasn’t been seen since.”

**Author's Note:**

> updates, masterlists and fic recs available on [tumblr](https://rubyfiamma.tumblr.com) or follow me on [twitter.](https://twitter.com/rubyfiamma)

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Picture Perfect: Fingerprints](https://archiveofourown.org/works/4139895) by [tastewithouttalent](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tastewithouttalent/pseuds/tastewithouttalent)
  * [Claimed](https://archiveofourown.org/works/6768457) by [tastewithouttalent](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tastewithouttalent/pseuds/tastewithouttalent)




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